


The Pages In Between

by ThatRavenclawBitch



Series: Lingerie Model Belle [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Awkward Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hopeless Gold, Model Belle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-07-05 14:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 30,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15865662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatRavenclawBitch/pseuds/ThatRavenclawBitch
Summary: Mr. Gold is already hopelessly smitten with his new tenant, Belle French, when he stumbles upon photos of her half naked in the pages of a magazine confiscated from his teenage son.Winner of Best Comedy Fic and Best AU Belle in The Espenson Awards 2019





	1. Chapter 1

It wasn’t something he enjoyed, entering Neal’s room. Gold did it as rarely as possible these days, leaving the housekeeper with the unpleasant task of venturing in to his thirteen-year-old son’s room to fish dirty underwear off the floor and plates of food from under the bed. He wasn’t entirely sure when his sweet child had transitioned into disgusting teenager, but he figured it was high time to have a talk about cleanliness. 

It was high time to have a talk about something else as well, he realized, grimacing at the sight of the dirty magazine sticking out from under the boy’s half made mattress. He was fairly surprised to find it. He thought boys these days got most of their porn from the internet. Not that he was speaking from personal experience, of course. 

He’d only meant to drop off Neal’s schoolbooks that he’d left on the stairs, a hazard for both his cane wielding father and the elderly housekeeper alike, but he was arrested by the sight of the magazine. He pulled it out, finding that it wasn’t porn at all. Instead it was a rather tasteful looking lingerie magazine that, judging by the address on the back, had been pilfered from next door. 

Gold shook his head. Was it possible Neal was innocent enough not to realize the world of depravity at his fingertips if he only used google? 

Chuckling to himself, Gold flipped through the magazine for a store called “Arabian Nights”. The lingerie seemed to have an exotic bent to it, sheer fabrics and copious gold body jewelry. He was about to put it back where he found it, already planning to wash his hands and have a conversation with Neal tonight, when a pair of long pale legs caught his attention. He stopped, the magazine flipping open on the image of a young woman lying in repose with one small pale hand lying against her toned stomach. Her dark chestnut hair was tumbling over her shoulders in waves, her plump pink lips pulled up in a sultry smile. She was wearing a pale blue bra and panty set, the sheer cups of the bra doing nothing to hide her dusky pink nipples. Luckily the panties were a bit more opaque. 

But it wasn’t the woman’s impossibly long legs for such a tiny person, or her beautiful hair or even the very revealing manner of her dress that made Gold’s breath catch in his chest. It was the fact that he was staring down into the bewitching blue eyes of Belle French. The very same Belle French who had recently taken up the post of librarian at the Storybrooke Free Public Library. The very same Belle French to whom he had sublet an apartment just last week and whose blue eyes, wide smile and rather biting sense of humor had haunted his every waking moment since. 

He slammed the magazine shut, throwing it across the room as if it had just burned him. Realizing what a stupid reaction that was, Gold crossed the room, picking the magazine up from where it had landed on a pile of folded laundry Mrs. Potts had braved leaving in Neal’s den of iniquity. He rolled the magazine up, putting in his jacket pocket and retreating from Neal’s room. He told himself it was to save Miss French the embarrassment of Neal possibly showing his friends the new librarian’s apparent former career. But if he pulled it out that night and studied it, finding three more photos of Miss French in the photo spread, no one else would be any the wiser.


	2. Chapter 2

Storybrooke was quaint. Belle French had decided that was the descriptor she was going with. Some might say boring, some might say economically depressed, some might even say repressed to an almost Victorian level, but Belle was an eternal optimist and she found the town quaint.

She’d only been a resident for three weeks now, but the town looked like something out of a New England tourism ad. The sleepy Main Street with its mom and pop shops and old fashioned storefronts, the harbor filled with tiny fishing boats, the wooded countryside surrounding them and starting to turn red and gold with the approach of autumn. She’d just moved from Southern California and she was looking forward to experiencing a place with real seasons. She had grand plans for curling up in front of the fireplace in her new apartment and watching the first snowfall with a cup of tea in one hand and a good book in the other. But snow was still a few months off and for now she would enjoy the changing color of the leaves, the fresh air in the mornings as crisp as a juicy, red apple, and the potential for accessorizing with hats and scarves that the colder weather afforded.

And who knew. Perhaps by the time of the first snowfall she wouldn’t be curled up by the fire alone.

Belle shook her head. It was far too early for such thoughts. In addition to the quaint scenery, she’d met quite the quirky cast of characters in Storybrooke. There was Granny who ran the diner and for some reason kept a crossbow under the counter. (More accurate than a firearm, Belle was told). There was her granddaughter Ruby who had declared herself Belle’s first friend in town within five minutes of meeting her. There was Leroy, a grumpy fisherman who’d taken it upon himself to warn Belle off every man in town and his wife Astrid, a former nun. (And wasn’t Belle just aching for that story). There was Sidney Glass, the editor, chief staff writer, photographer, and opinion columnist for the only newspaper in town. She’d met Archie Hopper, the town shrink, and Victor Whale, the town doctor. There were the Nolans, who appeared to be the most perfect couple in existence and Emma Swan, the sheriff who somehow shared a son with Mayor Mills though Belle had been told they weren’t exes or even in a current relationship by an eye rolling Leroy. In a mere three weeks Belle thought she’d made the acquaintance of almost everyone in town, but there was one in particular who had struck her fancy. One person she envisioned curling up in front of the hypothetical fire with for the hypothetical first snow.

None other than the man who had rented her the apartment in the first place, her landlord, Mr. Gold.

If Leroy had warned her off every man in Storybrooke, he’d paid particularly close attention to Mr. Gold.

“Don’t know why I’d have to tell you to steer clear of him, sister,” Leroy had grunted across the diner booth. “You’re smart enough to realize a monster when you see one. But all the same, you should probably cross the street if you see him coming.”

Belle didn’t get much out of Leroy for why she should be wary of Mr. Gold other than that everyone in town seemed to owe him money that he was fairly consistent in requiring be paid back with interest. Belle wasn’t sure why that made him a villain rather than a sensible businessman, but she wasn’t going to argue. Still, after Leroy’s warning and Ruby and Granny’s fervent agreement, she was rather apprehensive about meeting him the next day to receive the key to her new home.

Rather than the Devil himself, Belle had found Mr. Gold to be a handsome, well dressed and intelligent man in his 40s. A man with large, dark eyes and brown hair long enough to brush his shoulders, shot through with grey at the temples. In short, he was exactly her type. He had been nothing but pleasant and attentive with her, giving her a good rate on her apartment and even blessing her with what she imagined to be a rare smile when she’d cracked a joke about the claw foot tub in the apartment’s lone bathroom.

He’d given her free reign to paint the place any color she liked and had showed up two days later to make sure she was settling in well. He turned up again that weekend with a handyman in tow telling her he was worried the furnace needed maintenance before a forecast cold snap the next day. As Marco worked, they’d sat in the kitchen together drinking tea and talking about books. She was glad to find Mr. Gold was as well read as he was dressed and they passed a pleasant afternoon discussing The Master and Margarita.

She couldn’t imagine why anyone would dislike Mr. Gold and her only disappointment had come when he’d left her apartment, a full hour after Marco had finished up with the furnace, without asking her to dinner.

That had been a week ago, and she hadn’t seen Mr. Gold since despite his promise to visit the library and see how her preparations for the grand opening were going.

Not great, was the answer to that particular question. The library had stood abandoned for nearly a decade until the city council had decided to fund reopening it. They’d fixed some leaks in the roof and hired a librarian fresh from her master’s program but hadn’t managed to think of much else. There was a loud rumbling coming from the basement that Belle feared was the boiler, there was a moisture issue in one of the corners of the children’s section causing mildew to collect on some of the books, and the stock of usable books were woefully outdated. She’d been working on curating a list of titles to order, but with funding as low as it was she was trying to be economical about it.

If only the library wasn’t one of the rare buildings in town not owned by Mr. Gold. He was such an efficient landlord he’d probably have the place patched up and ready to go before the city could even begin to allocate the funds to do the same.

Belle sighed, tossing aside a Martha Stewart cookbook from 1995 and checking it off on her list of inventory. The library was good on cookbooks and auto maintenance guides but was severely lacking in fiction best sellers or even classics that might benefit the local high school. A few shelves of John Grisham and Stephen King along side a shelf of battered Charles Dickens and Mark Twain novels simply weren’t going to cut it.

The door to the library opened at midday, the bell she’d hung above the door jingling and a flood of sunlight cutting through the fluorescent gloom. Belle stood up from where she’d been sitting on the floor surrounded by piles of books, bracing herself against the circulation desk until she got her feet under her and dusting off her skirt.

“Mr. Gold,” she said, blushing slightly as the object of her recent thoughts entered the library. He cut a handsome figure today in his dark suit, navy shirt and red tie. It was a favorite combination, she was coming to learn.

“Miss French,” he returned with a stiff nod. His eyes were fixed somewhere over her left shoulder and she leaned to the side, trying to invade his eye line.

“Can I help you with something?” she asked.

Mr. Gold looked around, his eyes glancing at the stack of cookbooks she’d been culling on the return cart, the bare shelf to his right, the back of the computer sitting on the circulation desk and finally landing on her face.

His eyes widened, darting down the length of her body before glancing away again, suddenly very interested in the peeling cover of an ancient volume of Encyclopedia Britannica.

“I was just stopping in to see the library,” he said to the shelf of encyclopedias.

Belle cocked her head to the side, watching Gold’s profile closely. She noticed a flush creeping up the side of neck, tingeing his cheeks pink. She wasn’t sure why Mr. Gold was blushing just from looking at her, but she figured Leroy would never believe her if she told him.

“Well this is it,” she said, holding her hands out awkwardly to showcase the library at large. “As you can see, I have a lot left to do.”

“Indeed,” Gold said, turning back toward her though still not meeting her eyes. “Though the last time I was here, the windows were boarded up so this is still a marked improvement.”

There was an awkward silence between them and Belle twisted her hands together. Things hadn’t been awkward at her apartment last week. They’d been friendly and somewhat flirty. She’d looked forward to seeing him again all week and had been disappointed when he didn’t stop by. She supposed there was nothing stopping her from popping in to his pawnshop whenever she liked. She could have pretended she needed a lamp or something. Or just straight up told him she wanted to see him. But Belle was always the pursuer in relationships and for once she wanted to be pursued. She wanted Gold to come by and see her just because he wanted to. Now he was here and neither of them seemed to know what to say. It would help if he’d make eye contact.

“I’m trying to galvanize the mayor’s office into action but everything seems to run at a glacial pace over there,” she said, walking toward Gold. “I’m probably better off hiring Marco myself and then sending them a bill.”

“Do you need me to threaten anyone for you?” Gold said, a small smile giving her a flash of his gold tooth. “I can be very persuasive.”

Belle laughed. “I’m sure you can,” she said, biting her lip. Gold’s eyes followed the motion before flicking up to meet hers. His face turned beet red again and he looked away.

“I, uh, might take you up on that offer,” she said with a nod. “If my efforts at diplomacy don’t work that is.”

“Diplomacy at City Hall?” Gold said with a shake of his head. “I’ll be cracking heads before long.”

He picked up his cane, brandishing it for a moment before planting it back on the ground in front of him and Belle let out a hearty laugh. Gold chuckled along with her and she hoped, finally, the tension had broken.

“Can I offer you some tea?” she asked, motioning back toward her office. “I have an Arabian blend that’s to die for.”

“What?” he snapped.

Belle jumped. “Or I have Earl Grey if you prefer,” she countered.

Gold shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said, and he truly looked it. The man looked almost miserable.

Belle sighed. Gold was obviously uncomfortable about something. He’d stayed away for a week. He was blushing like a schoolgirl and being startled by offers of tea. This was not the same smoothly confident man she’d interacted with before.

Unless…unless he’d come here to finally ask her out but was having trouble working up the nerve. Belle could work with that.

“It’s almost my lunch break,” she ventured. “I was thinking about going next door to Granny’s for a burger. Would you like to join me?”

It wasn’t a dinner date exactly, but it was something. Perhaps unwinding over a pair of greasy burgers would be enough to spur Gold into action.

Gold looked up at her, actually looked, and for once didn’t immediately glance away. A small smile crossed his lips and Belle thought they had finally worked their way through whatever awkward veil had fallen between them. But then Gold gave a sigh, shaking his head.

“No,” he said. “I mean, not no I wouldn’t like to. I mean no I can’t.” He shook his head again. “I have an appointment. Across town. Right now.”

“Oh,” Belle said, deflating.

He gave a nod, his eyes drifting from her face down to her chest and then quickly looking away again.

“I wish you all the breast…” he trailed off looking mortified. “Best,” he corrected. “I wish you the best with the library. I have to go. Goodbye.”

He spun on his heel and left the library without another word.

Belle glanced down at herself wondering if she had a tit hanging out to cause his flub. But she hadn’t missed any buttons on her sweater. She wasn’t even showing any cleavage. She was positively modest.

She sighed, leaning back against the circulation desk. Maybe she’d misread the signals and Mr. Gold wasn’t interested at all. Perhaps inviting him to lunch had been overstepping some invisible line she hadn’t realized was there. Maybe he was some sort of secret pervert and she just hadn’t noticed the first few times they’d spoken. Whatever it was, it seemed she had somehow offended Mr. Gold and she hadn’t the slightest idea of how to make things right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> applejackcat prompted: Gold can’t be the only person in Storybrooke to have discovered Belle’s ads. What if Keith Nottingham or James Nolan or Grant Aston found Belle’s pics and leered at her/made gross comments about her in Gold’s presence?

Gold walked out of the library without another word and stalked off down the street without looking back. He could feel the tips of his ears burning with shame and he couldn’t get the look on Belle’s face when he’d gotten tongue tied around her out of his head.

He was an idiot. A complete lummox. A perverted old creep leering at the kindest woman he knew and staring at her chest like he could somehow see through her wool sweater.

He ran a hand over his face, groaning.

What the hell had he been thinking, visiting her at the library? The last thing Belle needed was him imposing himself on her while she was trying to work. Damn that magazine. If he’d never seen it he might be able to act like a normal person around Miss French, despite his unfortunate crush. But now he knew exactly what delights were hidden by her demure sweater and sweet little skirt. Belle was friendly, that was certain. She’d offered him tea and asked him to lunch. She was new in town and looking for friends. But she’d probably pack up and move out of town if she knew the thoughts that went through his head every time he so much as glanced at her.

Gold kept walking at a punishing pace, his cane tapping along the pavement in sharp staccato beats and relishing the pain that lanced through his ankle with every step. It was a small price to pay for the frankly profane thoughts he'd been having about Miss French. He started to slow as he finally ran out of steam, his ankle wearing out with the exercise.

He stopped, leaning heavily on his cane as he glanced around at his surroundings.

He realized he was standing in the middle of Blackberry Lane, outside Leroy and Astrid Miner’s house, nowhere near his own home or his shop or anywhere he might have business. He’d lied to Belle, telling her he had an appointment to cover for the fact that he was literally running from her presence in shame. He didn’t for one moment think she’d believed him, but now he’d walked half the length of Storybrooke and he was going to have to turn and walk right back in to town, past the library. He hoped Belle would think he was actually busy and not just pacing the road like an imbecile. Not that he held out much hope of Miss French having any reason not to consider him an imbecile after his “all the breast” flub.

He was a human disaster. There were no two ways around it. He was a 52 year old father of a teenage son and he might as well be thirteen himself for how he was acting. What kind of grown man couldn't speak to a woman just because he'd seen her naked without her knowledge or consent? 

He braced his arms against the Miners' white picket fence, letting his head fall forward into his hands. When he thought of it that way it sounded even worse than it was. 

There was a distant rumble of thunder and Gold straightened with a sigh, resigned to his fate.

He’d say this just wasn’t his day if it wasn’t par for the course with him. Gold couldn’t remember anything going his way in his entire life save the birth of his son, the very best thing that had ever happened to him and the one bright spot in his life. And now that son had turned on him, morphing into a lust filled teenager overnight and hiding underwear magazines in his room for his hapless father to find.

He supposed Neal came by it naturally.

He leaned his cane on the Miners’ fence, bracing his hands against it and stretching his bad ankle in preparation for the trek back to the shop, when the screen door to the house thumped open.

“It’s not rent day,” Leroy grunted, coming out to stand on his front porch.

“No,” Gold snapped, retrieving his cane and grounding it in front of himself menacingly. “Your ability to read a calendar is commendable, Mr. Miner. I’m suitably impressed.”

“Why are you here, then?” Leroy asked and Gold rolled his eyes.

“Enjoying the fine weather,” he said, gesturing at the steel gray sky above them. “Thought I’d take a walk.”

Leroy narrowed his eyes at Gold, muttering to himself as he turned back in to his house.

"Well can you enjoy the weather somewhere else?" he called over his shoulder. "You're making the missus nervous." 

The screen door slammed shut behind Leroy and Gold caught sight of someone peering at him through the living room curtains. He shot Mrs. Miner his toothiest grin, enjoying the way her eyes widened as the curtain fell closed.

Gold looked off down the street. He imagined it would take him at least a half hour to get back to Main Street with his bad ankle. He supposed he could go bang on Leroy's door and threaten him into loaning him his van, but he simply wasn't in the mood. Instead he would walk, wearing out the sore joint in his ankle even further. Perhaps by the end of the day he'd be bedridden for the rest of his life. That would be one way to ensure he never had to see Miss French again, but even the thought of denying himself the sight of Belle's blue eyes, her bright smile, her sharp sense of humor, was physically painful. He supposed at least he'd always have the catalogue for company. 

He was already limping more than usual when the rain started to fall, a soft patter frizzing up his hair and leaving tiny droplets on the shoulders of his overcoat. He tried to quicken his pace, hoping to get indoors before a sudden downpour, but his leg nearly buckled beneath him. The last thing he needed was to end up in a ditch, unable to walk, waiting to drown in six inches of rainwater. So instead he slowed to a trudge, the rain coming down harder around him.

By the time he made it to Main Street he was soaked through, his hair plastered to his head and his wool coat feeling like it weighed 50 pounds, heavy with rainwater. He shivered as drops of rain made their way down his neck and under his collar, certain he’d end up with a cold at best and full-blown pneumonia at the worst. Old people got pneumonia, he thought with a grimace. That’s what he needed. Another reminder of how fucking old he was and how a young woman like Miss French would be horrified at his ridiculous crush on her.

There was a bolt of lightning somewhere up ahead, striking across the sky in a brilliant display and followed closely by a rending clap of thunder. The rain somehow managed to fall even harder and Gold grimaced. He turned off of Main Street into the alley next to the Rabbit Hole, finding shelter from the rain under the bar's small overhang. His shop, and subsequently his car, were all the way at the other end of the street and he'd be damned if he got any wetter. Instead he'd just wait here for a break in the clouds. 

After about three minutes of shivering against the brick wall of the Rabbit Hole, Gold decided to give up what was left of his dignity and go inside. A drink sounded pretty damn good right about now anyway.

It was just shy of two o'clock in the afternoon and the bar was all but empty save Keith Nott and Gary Aston, both of whom seemed allergic to gainful employment, ensconced together at one end of the bar. There was some mournful country song coming from the jukebox and one bored looking bartender doing a sudoku puzzle behind the bar. He snapped to attention when Gold walked in, stuffing the puzzle under the bar. 

"Mr. Gold!" the man exclaimed. "It's not rent day." 

Gold rolled his eyes, sitting heavily on a bar stool. "Why does everyone always say that?" 

"W-w-well," the bartender stuttered. "You never come in unless it's for rent." 

Gold just glared at him.

"Scotch," he said, shrugging off his sodden overcoat and laying it across the stool next to him. "Neat." 

The bartender hurried off to fill Gold's drink request and the jukebox changed to an even more depressing sounding country song. The rain was lashing against the sides of the building, the already dimly lit bar even darker thanks to the storm clouds blocking out what little natural light the place got from its high windows. What a way to spend a dismal afternoon. 

The bartender returned with Gold's drink and he took a long sip, letting the liquid burn down the back of his throat. He didn't often drink and certainly not in the middle of a work day, but he was feeling so off kilter thanks to Belle that he thought he might make this his new daily routine. Feeling sorry for himself with alcohol was preferable to doing it without. 

There was a loud guffaw followed by a wolf whistle from the end of the bar and Gold turned to watch Gary and Keith with their heads together over a magazine. He wasn't one to eavesdrop, especially not on Storybrooke's lowest common denominator, but the bar was empty and quiet and their conversation caught his interest for once.

"Are you sure it's her?" Gary asked. 

"Positive," Keith said. "Recognized her the moment I saw her." 

Gold's stomach sank as his hand clenched around his bar glass. It could be anything, he reminded himself. Not everyone had Belle on the brain 24/7. 

"Goddamn," Gary continued with a low whistle. "Y'know it's always the quiet girls who get freaky. Who knew she had all that under those cardigans?"

"She kind of had that sexy librarian thing going already," Keith said. "Like she'd want you to spank her with a ruler."

"Fuck," Gold muttered to himself. Somehow Storybrooke's two most raging libidos had gotten hold of the Arabian Nights catalogue. He was sure either or both of the brainless twits would head over to the library as soon as the rain slacked off to harass an unsuspecting Belle. They'd probably drive her out of town. He couldn't let that happen. Belle deserved to open her library in peace not be dogged at every step by some man who couldn't keep it in his pants, and he counted himself among that number.

"Holy shit! You can see her whole cunt in this one!" Gary exclaimed loudly, and Gold was glad that the bar was empty but for them. 

"Yeah that's why I like this catalogue best. They don't blur out the good stuff."

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Gold interrupted. He couldn't even remember walking over to them, but now he was standing beside Keith Nott's bar stool, thankful that the other man was sitting down and he had a slight heigh advantage for the moment. 

"Mr. Gold," Keith said nervously. "Can we help you?" 

Gold looked down at the catalogue spread between the two men. It was opened to his very favorite photo of Belle. She was dressed head to toe in gold, his color, and despite it having absolutely nothing to do with him, it still gave Gold a little thrill.

It was from the bridal section of the catalogue, most of the advertised lingerie in shades of white and cream. But Belle was dressed in a gold lace teddy, dipping in a deep V to her navel and showing off a tantalizing amount of cleavage. Overtop she wore a pale gold shimmering kimono style robe loosely belted at her waist and slipping off one of her shoulders. One pale leg extended from the part in the shimmering fabric. She was pressed up against a brick wall, her head leaning back against it. Her hair was falling in shiny waves to her waist and Gold had wondered if her hair was ever that long or if she’d used extensions. She was giving bedroom eyes to the camera, her mouth parted ever so slightly, lips plump and wet and begging to be kissed. It was the single most erotic image Gold had ever seen in his life, and the idea of two mindless oafs like Keith and Gary slobbering over it made him see red.

"Interesting reading material," he said with barely contained rage, his eyes flicking back up to the two men.  

He was sure he looked a bit wild, soaked through to the bone, his hair a mess. He was probably an off putting sight in comparison to his usually impeccable appearance. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had seen him in less than his usual superficial perfect composure. Well, anyone other than Belle.

"It's the new librarian," Gary said with a smirk. "I guess she's a little more wild than I gave her credit for. Want to see?"  

“Where did you get this?” Gold snapped, ignoring Gary's question. 

“Keith gets a few different lady’s underwear magazines from all over,” Gary said, slapping his friend on the arm, completely oblivious to Gold's foul mood. “Research purposes, you know?”

Gold let his eyes rake over Keith disapprovingly.

“I wouldn’t think they’d carry your size,” he sneered. Keith’s eyes widened, his mouth falling open in protest.

“No!” he exclaimed, shaking Gary’s hand off his arm. “Not for me! I don’t…I’m not a…”

Gold rolled his eyes at Keith’s threatened fragile masculinity. He reached for the catalogue, slapping it closed and taking it from the bar. 

"Hey, that's mine!" Keith yelled.

"Yes, and since we've already established you're not going to order any panties for yourself I assume you have no further use for it."

Keith sputtered, but didn't try to stop Gold as he rolled up the catalogue and stuck it in his breast pocket. 

"Now," he said, turning to pick up his overcoat which was only slightly less damp than it had been before. "The two of you are going to forget you ever saw this. You're not going to mention it to anyone, least of all Miss French. Do we understand each other?"

Keith nodded, looking chagrined, but Gary puffed out his chest like the idiot he was. 

"Or what?" he asked, standing from his bar stool. He had a solid 6 inches on Gold, but he wasn't intimidated. Gary owed him $14,000 at last check. He had all the ammunition he needed to bankrupt the big oaf, as he did most people in town.

“You are never going to mention this to anyone,” he growled. “Because if you do, there is nowhere you can run which will take you out of the reach of my wrath. I will destroy you and I won't even have to break a sweat to do it."

He downed the last of his drink, dropping a few soggy bills on the bar and turning to go when Gary snorted, apparently determined to have the final word. 

"You know, that little slut would probably fuck any guy in town," he called after Gold. "But even with you playing knight in shining armor, I doubt she'd fuck you."

Gold swiveled on his good leg, using the momentum to swing his cane up and crack the other man squarely across the jaw. Taken by surprise, Gary went down hard, his head coming in to contact with his bar stool on the way down. 

Gold stood over him, pressing the end of his cane painfully into the back of Gary's neck. He hissed in pain, trying to push himself up from the sticky bar floor, but Gold pressed down with all his weight, not letting the cane budge.

"Call Miss French by that name again and you can expect worse," he spat through clenched teeth. He looked up at Keith who held his hands up in front of him. 

"I'm not saying a thing," the man said. 

"Then you're smarter than your friend," he ground out. 

Gold turned and left the bar, heading out into the still pouring rain. Now he had Gary Aston's big mouth to worry about and yet another copy of the catalogue that haunted his every waking thought. 

What a shit day. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

By Thursday afternoon, Belle was beginning to worry about Mr. Gold.

She hadn’t spoken to him since he’d come by the library three days prior and their once friendly banter had tapered off into awkward silences. She’d caught sight of him later that same day, hobbling past the library window in the pouring rain, but he hadn’t stopped back in. She’d regretted not throwing open the library doors and insisting he come in almost immediately and had instead watched him miserably limp across the street to the pawnshop.

He’d been thoroughly drenched and lacking an umbrella. The weather wasn’t quite cold yet, but it was chilly enough in early fall and the rain must have been freezing. He’d be lucky to come through without a cold.

Belle’s fears seemed confirmed when the pawnshop sign remained flipped to closed the next day. She closed up the library that evening, glancing across at the dark shop windows and briefly entertained the idea of stopping by his house with soup. She quickly forced that idea to the back of her mind. After all, the last time they’d spoken he couldn’t wait to be out of her presence.

She wasn’t even sure why he’d come by the library in the first place, unless he didn’t want to appear rude after she’d invited him to check it out. He had seemed so eager to spend time with her at first, practically fabricating reasons to stop by her apartment. He’d come to her place of business all on his own and yet everything had crumbled soon after.

No matter how Belle played things over in her mind she kept coming back to the library. She must have done something to offend him, but no matter how she raked over every interaction, every word exchanged between them, she couldn’t figure out what it was.

Unless it wasn’t so much _what_ she’d said but _how_ she’d said it.

She had a pattern, she knew. She was a creature of boundless optimism. When she liked someone, she could let her excitement run away with her and come on a little too strong. It had happened before with Will and then again with Mulan. Everything was going great until she started moving too fast and scared the other person away.

But all she’d done with Mr. Gold was ask him to lunch. That was hardly telling him they should move in together after 2 months of dating, a mistake she never planned to make again.

She was certain he had liked her at first and just as certain he’d now changed his mind. And she had no way of finding out why if he stopped opening the pawnshop, the one place he could be reliably found for questioning.

She supposed she could stop by his house. She’d asked Ruby at lunch on Tuesday if she knew where Mr. Gold lived and despite a raised eyebrow, the waitress had told her. He was only a couple of blocks from her own apartment, within walking distance. She’d spent the past two nights trying to come up with plausible reasons for invading the poor man’s home but had been unable to think of anything.

But now it was rent day, Belle’s first in Storybrooke. She knew he demanded rent be paid on time and in person during business hours at the shop. But the shop was still closed. He couldn’t possibly hold a visit against her when she was just trying to pay a bill.

That’s how Belle found herself standing on the front steps of a large salmon colored Victorian at 4:30 PM on Thursday afternoon. She had a Tupperware container filled with chicken noodle soup under one arm, her rent check in her jacket pocket and a smile on her face as she knocked on the wooden front door, a patchwork window of stained glass panes winking at her in the setting afternoon sun.

The door swung open after her second knock, revealing a middle school aged boy with thick, dark, wavy hair and very familiar brown eyes gawking at her from the doorway.

“Hi,” Belle said, smiling at the boy. “Neal, right?”

Gold had mentioned his thirteen-year-old son to her in one of their earlier friendly conversations, before she’d managed to drive him off, but she had yet to meet the boy in question.

Neal was still just staring at her, his mouth slightly agape. She was growing self conscious, wondering if she’d left the library with food on her face or her mascara had run, anything to explain why Neal had yet to say a word to her, just blinking rapidly before turning a rosy shade of pink. Belle glanced down at her blouse, just to make sure she hadn’t spilled any of the soup down her front.

“How?” Neal asked, his voice little more than a whisper.

“Pardon me?” Belle said, looking back up at the boy.

Neal shook his head, seeming to come back to himself.

“Who are you?” he asked instead, a little rudely. “Sorry,” he corrected himself with another shake. “Can I help you?”

Belle smiled.

“I’m Belle French, the new librarian,” she said, offering her hand to shake his. Neal stared down at her hand for a moment, his mouth still hanging open. He took her hand briefly before quickly dropping it. What on earth was the deal with the Gold men and their reaction to her?

“Um, my rent is due today and your father wasn’t at his shop,” she continued. “I came by to pay up.”

Neal seemed to relax a bit now that there was an explanation for her appearance. She wondered if they didn’t receive many visitors. The way Leroy, Granny and Ruby had warned her off Mr. Gold made her assume that was the case. Maybe the poor boy was just startled to have anyone ringing their doorbell.

“Oh,” he said with a nod. He stepped back into the foyer motioning for Belle to follow him. She stepped inside, eager to look around. To her right was a large polished wooden staircase. To her left was a small entry table, groaning under the weight of too many knickknacks. There was a sculpture of a dark haired woman in a blue dress, a spindly silver antique sewing box, and what she suspected was a genuine antique Tiffany lamp. A little further down the hall was an archway that she assumed led to the parlor, though she couldn’t see much of it from her current vantage point.

Neal stepped away from her, going to the foot of the stairs and yelling up them.

“Dad! Belle French is here to see you!”

There was a loud thump from somewhere overhead, the sound of heavy footfalls followed by a door banging shut.

Neal looked at Belle then back at the stairs before smirking to himself.

“If my dad asks, I went to Granny’s with my friends,” he said. He grabbed a jacket from the coat rack next to the front door and left, the stained glass on the door rattling as it thumped closed behind him.

Belle wasn’t sure what to do, standing in the foyer of Mr. Gold’s home clutching a Tupperware container full of soup. It seemed too forward to go find the kitchen to put it away in the refrigerator. But she felt stupid just standing around waiting for Mr. Gold to appear.

She walked a bit further in to the hall, glancing through the doorway into the parlor. The furniture in there was all antique with carved wooden legs and rich burgundy upholstery. With a child in the house it probably wasn’t somewhere they usually sat. There was no television in here for one.

For lack of anything else to do, she walked in to the parlor, sitting down in an uncomfortable wingback chair and waited.

This part of the house looked like an extension of the pawnshop, full of paintings and furniture and even a few musical instruments, violins and cellos stacked in cases in one corner. She wondered if Gold used his house as a warehouse of sorts for his inventory.

There was a set of built in shelves on one end of the room filled to bursting with books and Belle placed her soup down on one of the side tables, standing to go peruse the titles. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books, many of them leather bound and all of them quite old. She pulled one out at random, finding a printing of Pride and Prejudice from 1894, light blue with a gold embossing of a peacock across the cover.

She ran her hand over it with a smile when she heard a cough from behind her. She jumped, nearly dropping the precious book but catching it at the last minute. She placed it back on the shelf, turning to look at Mr. Gold sheepishly.

“I’m afraid you caught me snooping,” she said.

Gold was staring at her, a light sheen of sweat across his brow. He was a mess, his usual three-piece suit missing its waistcoat. He was sans tie, his jacket rumpled as though it had spent the night on the floor rather than a hanger and his cuffs hanging open, missing their usual golden cufflinks. His usual clean shave was replaced by a few days worth of stubble.

It was by far the least formally attired she’d ever seen him, and even though he was still technically wearing a suit, she couldn’t help but feel like she was seeing him half naked. It certainly appeared as though he’d thrown on his clothes haphazardly to receive her. She wondered what he’d been wearing five minutes before and then blushed, shaking her head. The man looked to be on death’s door and she was objectifying him.

“They’re just books,” he said, his voice hoarse. “How may I help you, Miss French?”

His shirt was misbuttoned, a gap in the fabric exposing a bit of smooth chest and Belle tried her hardest not to focus on it.

“It’s rent day,” she said cheerfully, pulling the envelope from her jacket pocket. “You said rent was due the first of the month, in person, during shop hours but you weren’t at the shop so I came here.”

She held the envelope out to him and Gold eyed it warily.

“I’d have thought the townspeople would be happy for a day’s reprieve,” he said thickly. “I certainly didn’t expect anyone to turn up on my doorstep.”

He stepped forward, leaning more heavily on his cane than usual, and plucked the envelope out of her outstretched hand.

“Thank you for your punctuality, Miss French,” he said formally, inclining his head in a small bow. It was such an old fashioned, gentlemanly thing to do that Belle couldn’t help but smile at him.

Silence followed, Gold leaning woozily on his cane and Belle grinning at him like a complete idiot. It was woefully apparent that the poor man needed to be in bed and her presence in his parlor was keeping him from much needed rest.

“Oh! I made soup,” she exclaimed, rushing over to the side table and scooping up the container to show him. “Chicken noodle. I figured I ought to perfect it before my first New England winter.”

He looked confused for a moment, his brow drawn together in a frown. Belle felt increasingly stupid for stopping by at all, but somewhere in the back of her mind she remembered a passage she’d read once. “Do the brave thing and bravery will follow.”

“Well, I made entirely too much,” she forged on. “So I thought since I was coming over with the rent anyway, I’d bring some along for you.”

“Ah,” Mr. Gold said with a nod. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

She stepped closer to him to hand him the soup and their fingers brushed sending an electric jolt up Belle’s entire arm. She was ridiculous, but she did notice that his hand was shockingly warm.

She chanced placing a hand across his forehead and Gold startled, leaping backward from her. She’d already felt enough though.

“You’re burning up!” she exclaimed.

“Ah, yes,” he said with a nod. “I’m afraid I’ve been a bit under the weather the past few days.”

“Have you seen the doctor?”

“It’s just a cold,” Gold said. “I’m sure it will pass in a few days and I’ll be none the worse for the wear.”

Belle crossed her arms, regarding him through narrowed eyes.

“Well you should have someone in the house to take care of you.”

Gold let out a wet chuckle that turned into another cough.

“As dutiful of a son as Neal is, he’s not much of a nursemaid,” he said, clearing his throat. “I’ll be fine.”

Belle cast a dubious eye over him. He was trembling ever so slightly, the soup sloshing at the sides of the container in his unsteady grip. He looked ready to collapse.

“You should at least be in bed,” she said decisively, ready for an argument. Men were always poor patients in her experience.

“Yes,” he agreed at once. “I should. I’ll go up now. Thank you so much for the soup, Miss French. You really needn’t have troubled yourself.”

“It was no trouble,” she said, taking the container back from him and setting it back on the side table.

Gold turned, heading wearily back to the stairs and Belle followed him. She had just arrived at the first landing when Gold seemed to realize she was still behind him.

“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, spinning around and nearly toppling back down the stairs.

“Oh!” she said. “I was coming with you.”

The poor man looked completely at a loss.

“To get you settled,” she said. “And see where your room was so I can bring up the soup once I’ve heated it.”

His eyes bugged from his head for a moment, his cane held in one white knuckled grip and the bannister in the other.

“That’s not necessary,” he said with a shake of his head.

“You just said Neal is a poor nursemaid. You can’t expect to get better if no one is taking care of you.”

“I’m a grown man, Miss French, I assure you I’ll survive a cold.”

So he was going to be stubborn after all. Belle sighed, crossing her arms against her chest.

“So, what, you don’t like soup?”

Gold’s eyebrows rose, clearly not expecting her to defend her cooking.

“Soup is good food,” he said noncommittally.

“Great!” Belle said brightly. “I’ll bring you some. Homemade.”

“My room is a mess,” he said, trying a different tactic when it became clear Belle wasn’t budging. “A complete disaster.”

“I’m hardly going to hold that against you,” Belle said with a snort.

He chose that moment to erupt into a hacking cough, doubling over and clinging to the bannister for support. Belle reached for him, placing a supportive hand on his back. He gasped for breath, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

“Why?” he asked, once the coughing had subsided. “Why do you want to help me?”

Belle shrugged, looking down at her feet.

“You’re my friend,” she said after a moment. “I like to help my friends and I don’t have a whole lot of them in Storybrooke yet so I’m not going to let the ones I do have die of illness.”

Gold stared at her for a long moment, as if trying to puzzle her out. It was a welcome change from a few days ago when he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

“You do know that no one in this town likes me, don’t you?” he admitted. “That any association with me will probably ostracize other potential friendships.”

Belle just shrugged again.

“I trust my own judgment better than anyone else’s,” she said. “And _I_ like you.”

She had either talked her way around him or else he was too exhausted to keep standing on the stairs because he finally relented.

“Alright,” he said, hurrying up the last few steps to the upstairs landing. He quickly made his way down the hall to the last door, nearly sprinting the last few steps belying both his cane and his cold. Belle walked at a more leisurely pace behind him, arriving just in time to see him grab something off the nightstand and shove it under the bed. She hardly had a moment to wonder what was so embarrassing he needed to shove it away before he was standing again, wheeling to face her. His face went pale, his footing unsteady and Belle rushed forward to grab his elbow before he collapsed.

Gold grabbed on to her waist as she helped him ease back to sit on the bed, his eyes shut against the sudden faintness.

The bed was unmade, used tissues littering the red and gold duvet, but otherwise his room was pristine. The only concessions to his illness were a box of tissues and a pack of menthol cough drops on his bedside table. The furniture was all dark cherry wood, a pair of baroque looking lamps set on the matching side tables. A large still life oil painting hung over an ornate dresser. There was a pair of French doors that seemed to lead on to a private balcony, a pair of striped armchairs and a drinks cart set in front. The whole room was like that, two chairs, two side tables, two dressers. Belle wondered for the first time about Mr. Gold’s ex-wife, if he missed her or missed being married, having someone to fill that second chair.

“Sorry,” Gold muttered, pulling Belle from her observations. He let go of her waist once he was settled and pulled further away than Belle thought was entirely necessary. “A bit dizzy.”

“It’s fine,” she said. That brief moment of contact was the closest she’d ever been to the man. The extreme heat radiating from his body tempered any enjoyment she could have found in the encounter however.

“Can I get you anything?” she asked. The pallid shade of his skin was worrying her and she thought he might be sick at any moment. “When was the last time you had a glass of water? Have you taken anything for the fever?”

“No,” Gold croaked out hoarsely. “But please, don’t trouble yourself.”

“None of that,” Belle interjected. “We’ve already concluded that I’m here to stay.”

A small smile crossed Gold’s face at her stubbornness and Belle counted it a small victory.

“Alright,” she said, suddenly all business. “You get settled in and I’ll go get you some water. Do you have any Tylenol?”

Gold nodded.

“Medicine cabinet,” he said, motioning toward the bedroom door. “In the hall bathroom.”

She headed down to the kitchen first, spooning some of the chicken noodle soup into a bowl and popping it in the microwave. It took her a few tries to find the drawer with the silverware and she couldn’t help but notice the stack of take out menus in the junk drawer she opened first. She wondered if he cooked often or if she could cook for him. Maybe some day soon, once he was feeling better, she could invite him over for dinner. She wasn’t a great cook by any means as her soup would soon prove, but better than Al’s Pancake World, of that she was certain.

When the soup was heated through, she filled a glass with cold water and brought both upstairs with her. She stopped off in the bathroom, quickly finding the bottle of Tylenol and brought the lot in to Gold, setting her supplies on his bedside table.

He had taken off his suit jacket, leaving it in a crumpled heap by the bed and she made a mental note to hang it up once he was comfortable.

“Here you go,” she said, handing him the pills and the water. He took them gratefully, gulping down most of the water and placing the half empty glass back on the side table before leaning back against the pillows with a sigh.

He was still in his shirtsleeves and trousers, lying on top of the covers and that wouldn’t do at all.

“Don’t you have pajamas or sweatpants, something that would be more comfortable than what you’re wearing?”

Gold picked up the glass of water again, taking another long sip, seemingly stalling for time.

“I don’t usually sleep in pajamas,” he admitted finally, staring down into the glass.

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed, feeling the blush rise in her cheeks at the thought of Mr. Gold slipping between his sheets in nothing but the skin he was born in. “Well if you want to strip down to your underwear, I promise I'll try not to ogle you too badly. ”

He choked on the water he was drinking, liquid dribbling down his chin and on to the blue silk of his dress shirt.

“What?” he sputtered.

“It was a quip,” Belle said with a laugh. “Not serious. I do want you to be comfortable though so if you’d like to change I’ll happily leave the room.”

“No,” he exclaimed, reaching for her. His hand only barely brushed hers before he pulled it back. “No. I’m quite comfortable, I assure you.”

She was able to at least coax him under the covers and soon he’d devoured the entire bowl of soup as well. Belle had absolutely no medical training, but she was feeling quite adept at her attempts at nursing the infirm.

“When’s the last time you ate anything substantial?” she asked as he scraped the bottom of his bowl with his spoon, picking up the last bit of soup.

He glanced away as though he was trying to remember.

“My throat has been too sore to really want to eat since Tuesday. The housekeeper has kept Neal well fed, luckily.”

“You have a housekeeper,” Belle said with a nod. Of course he did. He was a wealthy, single man with a demanding full time job. Now she felt even sillier for making such a fuss over Mr. Gold. He could probably have the housekeeper make better chicken soup than Belle’s pitiful attempt. At least Mr. Gold had seemed to enjoy it.

“I don’t pay Mrs. Potts near enough to deal with me when sick,” he said, as if reading her mind. “Not that it’s a regular occurrence. I promise I usually have a much stronger constitution.”

As if to highlight the statement, he let out a mighty sneeze. Belle handed him a Kleenex from the box next to his bed.

“Yes, well, walking around Maine in September during a rain storm could take down even the mightiest colossus.”

He groaned, letting his head flop back amongst the pillows.

“You saw that?”

She giggled.

“Afraid so. Why were you walking in the rain? Surely whatever meeting you had to go to was indoors.”

It was a sly attempt at catching him in his lie, getting him to admit that he’d run out of the library to avoid her rather than because of any real pressing need.

“It was the wrong day to attempt an afternoon stroll,” he said glibly, skirting her question.

There wasn’t much else she could do for Mr. Gold other than fetch him a fresh glass of water and clean up, so she left him to rest, taking his bowl and spoon down to the kitchen and rinsing them before placing them in the dishwasher. She refilled his glass of water from the dispenser on the fridge and added a little ice from the freezer to keep it cool.

She still felt a little awkward being here, despite the fact she’d been moderately helpful. She couldn’t help but wonder if Mr. Gold was only accepting her aid because he was too sick and tired to fend her off. He certainly didn’t seem the type to show vulnerability lightly. Was he opening up to her because he wanted to or because she'd caught him in a fragile moment? She hated to think she was taking advantage of any part of him. 

Once she’d placed the rest of the soup in the refrigerator with the hopes he might try some more later, she headed back up the stairs to bring Mr. Gold his water and say goodbye. He was sound asleep, his mouth slack and eyes moving rapidly behind their closed lids. His hair was so beautiful, even unwashed and slightly matted as it was. She wondered what it would feel like between her fingers, slipping like silk as she gripped on to the long tresses.

Belle bit down on her lip. Here she was objectifying a sick man again. She was the absolute worst.

She noticed his suit jacket, still on the floor next to the bed where he’d dropped it. It probably cost more than 2 months rent on her apartment and she hated to see it tossed aside in a crumpled heap. She figured if Mr. Gold were in better condition he wouldn’t want to see his jacket treated like that either. He was so meticulous about his things, everything kept immaculate, not a hair out of place. It was why it was so thrilling to see him disheveled now. It made him more human, less like the town terror. Belle supposed that’s why he never showed his vulnerabilities to the public. He cultivated his bad reputation, but it had to be lonely as well.

She tiptoed into the room, careful not to wake her sleeping patient and crept closer to the bed, gently placing the water glass next to the Kleenex box. He looked so peaceful, his face losing a bit of its strain in sleep making him look several years younger, almost boyish.

She knew she shouldn’t, that it was a gross invasion of his personal space, but Belle was like a woman possessed. She reached out, letting her hand whisper across his cheek in a gentle caress. His stubble rasped against her fingers and sent a shiver down her spine. He was still hot, worryingly so, and his head suddenly rolled to the side, nearly pinning Belle’s hand between his cheek and the pillow. She pulled back quickly, barely containing a surprised squeak.

Gold murmured something in his sleep that she couldn’t make out, followed by a soft sigh. She wondered if he often talked in his sleep or if it was brought on by the illness. She was about to turn to leave him to his dreams when he spoke again, louder this time. 

“Belle,” he moaned through chapped lips. Belle jumped, surprised to hear her given name. He’d only ever called her ‘Miss French’ before now.

“Yes?” she said, leaning over him to catch his words. “What do you need?”

Gold smiled, his face still pressed in to the pillow so she could only see half of it.

“Beautiful Belle,” he sighed. “So pretty. So perfect.”

His voice was coming out in a little sing-song way she’d certainly never heard him use before. He definitely wasn’t properly awake and he definitely didn’t know she was beside him. Belle worried her lip, wondering if she should leave. But he’d called her beautiful, pretty. She thrilled at the compliments and the fact that maybe Mr. Gold did like her after all, or at the very least the look of her.

He smiled again, his dimples on full display. He really was very handsome, and apparently he felt similarly about her if his sleep babbling was anything to go by. Once he was over this illness maybe things would work out in Belle’s favor for once.

“Looks so lovely in her knickers,” Gold snuffled into the pillow. Belle's eyes widened, wondering if she'd really heard what she'd just thought she heard. 

"Lovely knickers," he sighed and Belle had to suppress a laugh. He appeared to be having quite the fever dream.

She leaned closer, trying to catch more of the delicious little things he was saying when suddenly his eyes flew open, his hand reaching out to grab her by the wrist. Belle squealed, wrenching back in surprise. 

“You’re here!” he said, blinking his eyes as if he expected her to fade away with his dream.

“Yeah,” Belle said. “Sorry. I was just about to leave. Unless you need anything else?”

Gold dropped her hand, rubbing his palms on the bed covers. He shook his head.

“No,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “Nothing. Thank you for everything you’ve done, Miss French.”

Belle smiled a little sadly. She was back to being Miss French now that he was conscious.

"Alrighty then," she said, her mouth and brain disconnecting somewhere along the line to produce that ridiculous phrase. "Um, I hope you feel better soon." 

She gave him one last smile before showing herself out, rushing down the large staircase and out the stained glass paneled front door into the crisp twilight outside with a skip in her step. It was a short walk to her apartment and Belle couldn't stop grinning like a schoolgirl the entire way. She finally felt confident that Mr. Gold did like her after all. The real test would be getting him to admit it when awake.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is entirely the fault of emospritelet and rumple-belle (rowofstars) along with a tumblr anon who must feed off second hand embarrassment. 
> 
> For the Rumbelle Accidental Full Frontal challenge.

It was another two days before Belle saw Mr. Gold again. She thought she should at least give the poor man time to recover from his illness before she went to work on turning their mutual attraction into something more concrete.

She knew he liked her. That was evident from their earliest interactions. They had enough in common to enjoy each other’s company and enough differences to keep things interesting. And now, thanks to his feverish declarations, she knew he found her attractive as well. She wasn’t sure what was keeping him from asking her out on a proper date, but she’d tackle that obstacle the same way she did everything else, with relentless optimism and reckless bravery.

Her attempt at asking him on a lunch date earlier in the week hadn’t panned out so well, so she thought she needed to let Gold take the lead. If only she wasn’t certain she’d die from old age before he worked out that she wanted to go out with him. She needed to give him some encouragement, but not too much lest she terrify the poor man. It was a delicate balance, one she wasn’t quite sure she was savvy enough to pull off.

But the opportunity had finally presented itself and Belle wasn't going to allow it to pass her by. The shiny, black Cadillac was parked out front of the pawnshop and the lights were on inside for the first time all week, so Belle was sufficiently encouraged that Mr. Gold was on the mend. She was glad his little cold wasn’t the death of him and hoped he’d think twice about walking around in rainstorms next time the opportunity arose.

It was a Saturday, sunny and bright with a cool breeze coming in from the bay. It was a perfect October day and Belle closed up shop at the library at noon, standing outside the front doors and weighing her options.

Her first thought was to head to Granny’s, pick up a couple of burgers, and bring them to the pawnshop. But that might be forcing things a little too hard and she wasn’t entirely sure he even liked burgers. They’d never shared a meal together and she wouldn’t know how to order his in the first place.

Coffee. That was a much safer bet. Coffee was friendly and nonthreatening, but it still necessitated Belle going out of her way to do something nice for Mr. Gold. With her mind made up, she took the short walk to Granny’s, ordering two cups of coffee at the counter from Ruby before heading back out into the midday sun.

She needed a lamp. That was her pretense anyway. She had an end table next to her squashy white sofa that was tragically bare and a lamp would brighten up the spot considerably. Granted she could probably find something to suit her needs at the thrift shop across from Granny’s that would be considerably cheaper. But perhaps she just wanted to invest in something antique and pretty rather than cheap and functional. Belle didn’t exactly have much in the way of disposable income, but she was prepared to shell out if it would get her a conversation with Mr. Gold.

She was absolutely pathetic.

Belle faltered for a moment on the sidewalk outside the pawnshop. She looked down at her to go cups of coffee and bit her lip.

“Nothing ventured, nothing gained,” she whispered to herself. And she certainly wanted to gain Mr. Gold.

She pushed open the door to the shop with her hip, the bell above the door tinkling merrily to announce her presence. The shop’s interior was gloomy after the bright sun outside and it took Belle’s eyes a moment to adjust. Once they did, she realized Mr. Gold was nowhere to be seen.

She glanced over her shoulder to make sure that the sign in the door was flipped to open and that he hadn’t nipped out to lunch. But there it was, proudly proclaiming that the shop was open for business.

She walked further in to the shop, looking over the merchandise on the walls and in the glass display cases.

There was a thump from the back of the shop like the sound of a door shutting and Belle looked up at the curtain separating it from the sales floor. She’d never been back there before. She assumed it was where Mr. Gold did most of his repairs or maybe where he had an office for bookkeeping and the like. She wasn’t sure if customers were even allowed back there, but she figured she might as well see if he was about. Clearly he hadn’t heard the bell announcing her arrival.

“Mr. Gold?” she called, moving toward the curtained back room. “Is that you?”

There was a muffled curse in a familiar Scottish brogue followed by a strangled “come in!”

Belle nudged the curtain to the side with her elbow, stepping through into the back room only to be faced with a most unexpected sight.

Mr. Gold’s bare ass.

Belle couldn’t contain the almost delighted little noise that erupted from her mouth at the sight. She only had a moment to admire the rather nice curve of his backside before Mr. Gold spun around in surprise giving her yet another nice view.

He was thin but his arms and chest were nicely muscled, his belly softer than the rest of him. She couldn’t help her eyes from tracing the sparse hair on his chest down across his belly and lower where his cock hung exposed between lean legs.

“I said don’t come in!” Mr. Gold exclaimed, dropping his hands to cover his manhood. Belle realized belatedly that she’d been staring right at it.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, covering her eyes with her hands and spinning around. Unfortunately, her hands had been holding two cups of hot coffee only a moment before and they fell to the ground with a splatter, the warm liquid splashing over her feet and soaking in to her suede pumps. She squealed, bouncing from one foot to the other at the sting of the hot coffee soaking through her tights.

“I thought you said ‘come in’!” she exclaimed.

“No,” Gold said, his tone clipped.

Belle chanced a glance over her shoulder and glimpsed him pull a pair of slacks up over his narrow hips. She couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t bothered with underwear and wondered if it was a usual thing for him or if he was just trying to dress as quickly as possible.

“I’m decent,” he said after another moment and Belle turned back toward him as he was buttoning up a burgundy dress shirt, his feet bare and his trousers concealing the delights she’d just been witness to.

“Please do me a kindness and say you didn’t see anything,” he said with a wince.

“I saw everything,” Belle said, biting down on her lip to mask her smile. It wasn’t that she delighted in Mr. Gold’s obvious discomfort. She just couldn’t help but smile at the confirmation that he looked even better beneath the suits than she could have imagined.

With all his buttons done up, Gold reached for his cane that was balanced against a twin bed pushed against the wall. Belle wondered if he slept in the shop on occasion. It didn’t look very comfortable.

“I’m terribly sorry you had to see that,” he said miserably, grounding his cane in front of him.

“No!” Belle exclaimed. “I should be apologizing. It’s entirely my fault. I misheard you. I certainly didn’t expect you to be naked in the middle of the day.”

Gold rolled his eyes, crossing over to a cluttered worktable and sitting down at the stool beside it.

“I don’t make a habit of that, I assure you,” he said. “There was an issue with one of the showers at the Inn. I went over to try to fix it and ended up doused with water.”

He motioned to a drying rack in the corner where a three piece suit, dress shirt, and boxers were dripping water on to the wooden floor. Well, that answered her question about his underwear preferences. 

“Oh,” Belle said for lack of anything else to say.

“I figured I'd best not walk around in soaking wet clothes yet again when I’ve just gotten over a cold.”

“Of course,” Belle agreed.

“I keep an extra suit here in the shop.”

“Smart,” she said.

“I was just changing when you walked in.”

“Yes, I realize that now.”

“I don’t just walk around the back of my shop naked in the middle of the work day," he rambled on. "I’m not a pervert.”

Belle snorted a laugh. “I don’t think you’re a pervert.”

Gold nodded. “Well that’s a relief.”

They lapsed into silence which was somehow worse than the rambling, awkward conversation they’d been having.

“I brought you coffee!” she blurted out, before remembering she’d dropped it all over the floor.

Gold quirked a brow at her. “Why?”

“I need a lamp.”

If possible, Gold looked more confused. 

“And you’re bartering for one with coffee?”

“No!” she exclaimed again. “I just thought I’d bring coffee. Since I was coming here anyway. I’ve dropped it.”

“I can see that,” he said, inclining his head toward the puddle at her feet.

“I was just surprised and I dropped it,” she wasn’t sure why she was babbling. She wasn’t sure why she was still here. She was positive Mr. Gold would like her to leave at once. He still wasn’t quite fully dressed and she was keeping him from his task.

“The sight of my naked body has been known to cause distress, yes,” he countered.

Belle shook her head. “Really?”

“No,” Gold said. “I’m not sure why I said that.”

“Well clearly someone liked the look of it, am I right?" she said with a smirk. "You have a child.”

Gold’s mouth fell open at that, clearly rendered speechless by her absolutely ridiculous statement.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “I should clean this up. Do you have a mop?”

“Please don’t trouble yourself,” he said, waving a hand at her as he stood up. “I’ll clean up.”

"It's the least I could do," she said. "I've completely ruined your afternoon I can at least clean up my own mess." 

"I'll handle it," he said, his tone brooking no opposition. "Please. Why don't you go through to the sales floor. I'll only be a moment."

Belle found herself nodding and being ushered back through the curtain before she could argue. She stared at a collection of diamond rings in one of the display cases, not even seeing them. She was far too embarrassed by what had transpired in the back of the shop. For God's sake she'd been gawking at the poor man's cock like she'd never seen one before. She'd come over with the express purpose of coyly displaying her availability and instead she'd barreled in and gawked at him while he innocently changed clothes. She truly was an absolute nightmare of a human being. 

Gold joined her a few moments later dressed in his usual three piece suit and tie and looking perfectly put together. You'd never know he'd been buck naked only minutes ago. She blurted out yet another apology as soon as she saw him and Gold gave a hearty sigh.  

“You said you needed a lamp?” he interrupted, cutting her apology off.

“Yes!” Belle agreed, latching on to her planned excuse. “For my apartment. It’s a little bare bones at the moment…” despite herself, her eyes drifted down to the front of Gold’s trousers and she blushed at her unintended double entendre.

“Sorry,” she said spinning away and pointing at the first lamp she saw, an ostentatious art deco piece. “What about this one. This one is nice.”

“Indeed,” Gold said following her to the lamp. “It’s a vintage Lalique valued at $1,500.”

Belle tried to keep her eyes from bulging at the price tag.

“There much of a market for that kind of thing in Storybrooke?”

“No,” Gold admitted. “Not really. But there is the occasional tourist and I do a fair amount of online sales.”

“Ah,” Belle said, moving on. There was a pair of twin lamps, the bodies made of simple ink blue glass with cream shades that were much more her style.

“How about these?” she asked.

“$75 for the pair,” he said and Belle glanced up at him.

“What if I only need one?”

“They’re a pair,” he pointed out.

“Yes, but I only have one end table.”

“Put the other in another room,” he suggested.

“Well that kind of defeats the purpose of having matching lamps, doesn’t it?”

“Are you attempting to haggle, Miss French?” he asked with narrowed eyes. 

"Maybe." She grinned at him. “How am I doing?”

“Not well.”

Belle put on her best pout, the effect totally ruined by the smile she couldn’t keep at bay.

“I tell you what, I’ll give you one lamp for $45,” he said. Before Belle could protest that that wasn’t a deal at all he spoke over her. “And I’ll throw in the second for free.”

Belle’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes widening. “So you’re knocking $30 off the price. I’d say I’m pretty good at haggling after all.”

“No,” he countered. “I’m charging you the full price for one lamp and giving you the second free in recompense for the trauma of seeing me naked.”

Belle let out a startled laugh, shocked that Mr. Gold had voluntarily brought them back around to that awkward moment. It was strange but he almost seemed more relaxed around her now than he had the past few times they’d interacted. Perhaps seeing him naked as the day he was born was exactly the way they needed to break the ice.

“Deal,” she said, holding her hand out to shake his and enjoying the way his large, warm hand engulfed hers.

She paid for the lamps while Mr. Gold boxed them up for her and soon she was headed out the door with her new purchases.

“You know,” she said from the doorway, hoisting the box in her arms. “I think I got the better end of the deal here.”

Gold raised an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“You’re a lot better looking than you think,” she said with a wink. "And I quite enjoyed the view." Then she sauntered out the door leaving a flummoxed looking Gold in her wake.

It was only when she’d made it halfway down the block that she realized she’d left the shop with two lamps and no date.

Oh well. He couldn’t possibly mistake her interest in him now.


	6. Chapter 6

He was doomed.

It was a thought Gold had running on a loop in his head these days, but the once over Belle had given him, the flirtatious bite of her lip, the unmistakable tone of her parting comment, this was something new entirely and it would kill him.

Belle French was far prettier and far sweeter and far younger than he had any right to covet. She was so far out of his league they might as well not be the same species. And yet she’d sauntered into his shop, barged into his private workroom, ogled him naked and finally pronounced him better looking than he thought he was.

Of course, that didn’t have to mean much. Gold thought he was about as visually appealing as a sea slug. But she’d also professed to enjoy the view so there must have been some part of him that was appealing.

He was fairly adequately sized downstairs. Perhaps that’s all she’d been focused on and she’d missed the middle aged spread of his belly and the skinniness of the rest of his frame. Maybe his relatively small stature made that part of him look larger by comparison. He’d never given it much thought.

He heaved a sigh, heading back to his workroom to locate his spare suit jacket and finish making himself respectable. At least he’d made a sale today, if nothing else. He hoped Miss French enjoyed her new table lamps. And if some part of him also hoped that every time she read beneath the light of her new living room lamp that she also associated it with thoughts of him in the altogether, well, no one was in the room reading his mind, were they?

He wasn’t sure why, but now that Belle had seen him naked he felt infinitely more comfortable around her. It was as though they were on an even playing field for the first time since he’d stumbled upon her photo in the magazine. He could look her in the eye again knowing she’d seen as much of him as he had her. He wouldn’t have thought his brain would work in such a way, but perhaps he should have just stripped nude for her that first awkward day in the library and avoided the interim. Of course, Belle probably would have called the police and never spoken to him again. 

He went home that evening with a singular purpose. If he ever wanted to have any type of relationship with Belle, and despite her comments earlier he still felt it was a far fetched dream, he had to perform one particular task. He went straight up to his bedroom and dug the two magazines out from under the bed where he’d stashed them the day Belle had shown up with soup. He hadn’t looked at them since, thinking he’d finally put away his ridiculous crush on Belle French. But keeping a stash of half naked photos of her under his bed like he was his 14-year-old son wasn’t the action of a confident man intent on pursuing a friendship, and perhaps more, with an attractive woman. If he was ever going to be able to function around Belle, he had to destroy the photos.

He lit the fireplace on the wall opposite his bed, letting the flames leap up and crackle. It was a chilly fall evening and the fire was nice, bathing him in its warmth. He sat down in one of the armchairs before the fire, stretching his bad ankle out toward the blaze and letting himself relax. Then he flipped open the magazine on his lap, flicking through it to the dog-eared pages where Belle appeared.

There she was in the pale blue set that matched her eyes, the first photo that had grabbed his attention that fateful day in Neal’s bedroom. A few pages later was one of Belle in a crisscrossed strappy black number that made her look like a dominatrix. He didn’t like to inspect the thrill that photo sent lancing through him too closely. There was a photograph of her in a silk camisole and short set that was positively demure in comparison to the others. It was in the pajama section of the magazine that was a bit more quietly sexy than the more overt lingerie. Gold always liked the look of it though. It was how he imagined Belle looked on a normal evening, hair freshly washed and curling around her shoulders while she sipped her tea in her pajamas and a pair of fluffy slippers. It was that Belle he wanted most.

Last was his favorite photo, the one of Belle decked head to toe in his color looking like some sinful angel come to test his fortitude. He slapped the magazine shut.

“Enough,” he muttered to himself.

Then he tossed the first magazine on to the fire, the flames licking against the glossy pages until the edges caught, burning up quickly. The purple and gold cover curled up in charred swirls, distorting the cover image as the pages in between burned brightly. Soon there was nothing left of the magazine but a burnt husk and Gold poked at it with a fire poker, the remnants crumbling to ash in the grate.

He was about to give the second magazine a similar fate when he stopped, opening it up one last time to his favorite photo of Belle in the gold shimmering robe. He deliberated for a moment before ripping the page out of the magazine. It would be a sin to destroy something so beautiful, wouldn’t it?

He tossed the rest of the magazine into the fire without another look, his eyes transfixed by the photo in his hand.

He folded it up, making sure not to crease Belle’s image, and placed it in his coat pocket where it weighed heavily, mockingly.

_“On the same page, my ass,”_ it seemed to say. " _Belle didn’t snap a photo of you in the back room and carry it around in her purse, now did she?"_

“Shut up, you wanker,” he mumbled to himself. Then he went downstairs in search of Neal. It was time they had a very uncomfortable conversation.

* * *

 

It had been two weeks since Belle bought her new lamps and other than having a well lit living room, her life had not changed perceptibly in the interim.

She tried not to let it bother her. Mr. Gold might simply move at the pace of a 100-year-old tortoise. Maybe that was his dating strategy. Or maybe, just maybe, he had no interest in her at all and she’d somehow made the whole thing up. Perhaps his feverish moans about a "beautiful Belle" in lovely knickers had been about an entirely different woman named Belle. After all, he still only ever referred to her as Miss French. Maybe he didn't even know her first name and at this point was too embarrassed to ask, she certainly didn't know his. Or maybe he did think she was lovely but was only interested in friendship. 

And he was friendly, for certain. In fact it seemed as though all the awkwardness that had built up between them a few weeks ago had faded completely. Mr. Gold smiled at her in the street, indulged her in friendly banter when they’d run in to each other at Granny’s, and had even somehow gotten the ball rolling on City Hall fixing the library boiler. He was friendly, but that was all. And his persistent friendliness was driving her mad.

It was the week before Halloween and Belle had it on good authority that the place to be on Halloween was the Mayor’s mansion. She held an annual masquerade party for the adults in town that was considered the social event of the year. Belle had been holding out hope that perhaps Gold would ask her to be his date, but with Halloween only a few days away, she’d mostly given up on that fantasy. She barely had enough time left to scrape together a costume leaving her wondering if she should attend at all.  

She had stopped by Granny’s for a late lunch around 2:00, and for the moment she was the only customer. Ruby sat her at the counter, pouring herself a cup of coffee and talking Belle’s ear off as she ate.

“So, Ruby said, leaning across the counter where Belle was picking unenthusiastically at her burger. “Have you thought of a costume idea for the masquerade yet?”

Belle sighed, giving a shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t think I’m going to go.”

Ruby’s mouth fell open in horror.

“What?” she exclaimed. “You have to go! You’re still new in town and everyone is going to be there. You want people to visit this library of yours when it opens, don’t you? You have to be there.”

“Everyone goes?” Belle asked, hating the hopeful little hitch in her voice.

“Well, yeah,” Ruby said, snorting in to her coffee cup. “No one wants to piss off Regina by refusing an invitation. She takes a lot of pride in her parties. Plus it’s a lot of fun. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Storybrooke doesn’t really have a thriving nightlife. The Halloween party is the one exception.”

Belle frowned, considering her options. If Mr. Gold went to the party, she could show up in something daring, letting her mask and the festive evening buoy her confidence. She could finally make a move, wear something low cut and see if Mr. Gold responded to the provocation.

If he wasn’t there, she could at least have some free drinks and make out with someone willing, ignoring for a moment the only person she currently wanted to make out with.

“Please, Belle?” Ruby asked, her eyes pleading. “I’ll help you put together a last minute costume if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Belle bit her lip, swirling a french fry through her dollop of ketchup and wondering how to phrase her next question without showing her hand completely.

“Um,” she started, wincing at her lack of confidence. “Does Mr. Gold usually go?”

Ruby raised her eyebrows, leaning back from the counter.

“Why?” Ruby asked. “Are you trying to avoid him?”

“No,” Belle exclaimed, dropping the fry and pushing her half eaten burger away. “We’re friends.”

Ruby looked skeptical. “If you’re friends,” she said, miming air quotes around the word, “why don’t you just ask him if he’s going?”

Belle could feel a blush creeping up her cheeks and she shook her head.

“Yeah, of course,” she said. “I was just wondering if historically it was something he was interested in.”

Ruby cocked her head to the side, looking up to the right as if trying to remember.

“I think he’s been a couple times,” she said finally, picking her coffee back up and cradling it between her palms. “Probably years he needed a favor from the mayor’s office or something. He never dresses up though. Can you even imagine him in anything but a suit and tie?”

Belle’s blush deepened and she suddenly became engrossed in the melting ice in her half empty glass of iced tea.

Ruby raised an eyebrow.

“What is that look?” she asked.

“I can imagine him in something other than the suit and tie,” Belle admitted, her voice high.

Ruby nodded for her to continue.

“I walked in on Mr. Gold…” she trailed off.

“What?” Ruby asked, her eyes widening. “Skinning children for their pelts?”

“What? No!” Belle cried. “Naked.”

Ruby choked on her coffee. “I think I’d prefer the skinning children thing.”

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “It was…um, it was not bad. Good, actually.” She couldn't stop the stupid grin that crossed her face at the memory.

If anything Ruby looked even more disgusted.

“Do you have a thing for Mr. Gold?”

Belle stuck her chin out, holding her head high.

“So what if I do?”

Ruby’s eyes bulged as she slammed her coffee cup back down on the Formica countertop. Belle was surprised it didn't splinter in a shower of broken crockery. 

“Did you listen to nothing Leroy or I told you about him?” she demanded. “He’s a nightmare!”

Belle sighed, rolling her eyes.

“All either of you have said about him is that he’s a ruthless business man which seems to mean that he demands on time payment for loans. I just call that responsible.”

“He kicked the nuns out of the convent on Christmas Eve, Belle!” Ruby cried. “Nuns! Because they were $200 short.”

Belle twisted her hands together uncomfortably.

“Okay so that does sound bad,” she admitted. “But I’m sure he had a good reason.”

Ruby shook her head. “A good reason for throwing someone out of their home on Christmas over a little bit of money when he’s already richer than Midas? Literally. He has more money than Hank Midas who owns three car dealerships in the tri-county area. And don’t even get me started on what he did to poor Gary!”

“Who’s Gary?” Belle asked with shake of her head.

Ruby shrugged. “Just a guy in town. But Gold showed up at the Rabbit Hole a few weeks back and beat the crap out of him for no reason. I heard the bartender telling Ashley all about it. Mr. Gold ducked in out of the rain, started wailing on Gary with that cane of his, and then left. No one even knows what it was about.”

Throwing out nuns and attacking unsuspecting men in bars certainly didn’t sound great, but Belle wasn’t going to put all her faith in gossip.

“He’s nice to me,” she protested. “He’s always been nice to me.”

“Of course he is,” Ruby said, eyeing Belle up and down. “He’s a lonely old man and you’re a hot little piece.”

Belle shook her head. “So, what, you think he’s friendly and helpful because he wants to sleep with me?”

Ruby nodded.

“You’re attractive,” Belle pointed out. “Do you think he wants to sleep with you?”

Ruby pulled a face. “No. But he’s known me since I was 12 so that might be kind of gross and he knows Granny would shoot him with her crossbow. But you’re fresh blood, and as soon as he gets what he wants from you he’ll drop you like yesterday’s news. That’s the kind of man Mr. Gold is. He takes what he wants from people and tosses out the rest.”

Belle shook her head.

“You’re wrong,” she said. “It’s not like that at all. Trust me. I’ve practically thrown myself at the man and he’s never even tried to hold my hand. If he wanted to sleep with me he would have by now.”

Ruby wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“You can do better, Belle,” she said. “And I don’t want to see you get hurt. If a relationship is what you’re looking for, Mr. Gold is the wrong tree to bark up.”

Belle deflated, crossing her arms against her chest. What Ruby said went against everything she’d witnessed in Mr. Gold herself. The man was kind to her, and intelligent, and interesting to talk to. He was handsome and funny. He was, in short, everything she could possibly want in a partner. But he’d obviously done something to garner the reputation he had in town.

She wished she could marry the two incongruous images she had of Mr. Gold, the man she knew and the man he showed the rest of the town.

“If you really want to know what kind of beast you’re dealing with there, you should ask him about his ex-wife,” Ruby whispered, as if she were afraid of someone overhearing them in the empty diner.

Belle’s brows drew together. She’d wondered about the former Mrs. Gold, Neal’s mother, when she’d visited the Gold’s home. Everything in Mr. Gold’s bedroom had been geared toward two occupants. Perhaps he hadn’t made a move on Belle because he was still mourning the end of that relationship, however it had gone.

“What about her?” she asked, suddenly feeling nervous.

Ruby shrugged, taking another sip of her coffee. Belle got the feeling she liked having a rapt audience for her stories.

“All I can say is there’s no greater victim of that man than Milah Gold. He’s not an easy man to love Belle, and you shouldn’t try.”

She was certain Ruby was being coy on purpose. Milah Gold, if that was her name, was probably just fine. Neal did seem to live exclusively with his father though and she knew the courts tended to favor mothers in custody arrangements. Had Milah died? Was Gold a widower rather than a divorcee? It seemed rude to ask him point blank. Clearly Ruby thought something sinister had happened to the woman. 

Belle was dragged from her thoughts by Ruby clapping her hands together. 

“Anyway, back to the Halloween party,” she said, signaling the end of their previous conversation. “Come over tonight and I’ll help you put together a costume. I have tons of stuff in my closet. Oh! And at the party I can introduce you to my friend August. He’s a writer. You’ll love him!”

Belle agreed to head over to Ruby's at 7:30. It's not as though she had anything better to do tonight. She was in the process of paying for her half eaten meal when the bell rang signaling a new customer and the most recent occupant of her thoughts walked through the diner door.

"Miss French," he said pleasantly, walking up next to her at the counter. "How lovely to see you." 

"Mr. Gold," she said with a smile. Despite Ruby's dire warnings the simple sound of his voice seemed to turn her to butter.  

“One coffee to go, please, Ruby dear,” he said, turning to the waitress.

Ruby was staring at him, mouth slightly agape. Her gaze slid to Belle and then back to Gold.

“Today, if it’s not too much trouble,” Gold prompted.

Ruby snapped to attention darting over to the coffee pot and filling a to-go cup.

“I’ve been remiss, Miss French,” Gold said, turning to look at her. “I caused you to spill your coffee the other day and have yet to repay you.”

“Oh!” Belle exclaimed. “Well you could buy me a cup right now.”

Gold smiled, his dimples on full display, and shook his head.

“I have an auction to go to in Camden this afternoon, but perhaps on Friday afternoon?”

Belle blinked. Was he asking her on a coffee date? Finally? She chanced a glance at Ruby who had gone quite pale, the to-go cup wobbling in her grip. 

"Absolutely," Belle said brazenly. "It's a date." 

Gold gave her another of those sweetly dimpled smiles, looking down almost shyly. How on earth could Ruby think this man had ever done anything sinister in his life?

"I look forward to it," he said.  

He pulled his wallet from his inside coat pocket, pulling out a few bills to hand to Ruby.

“Keep the change,” he said, picking up his coffee cup from the counter. “Good day, Miss French.”

He sauntered out of the diner, his smooth swagger somehow only enhanced by the cane he carried and Belle watched him go with a slight smile on her lips. A coffee date was still a date. This was the most progress they'd made in two months. 

He opened the diner door, a chilly October breeze whipping his coat around him. Something fluttered from beneath his coat, a piece of paper falling to the ground behind him as he exited and drifting halfway across the diner floor. Belle hopped up off her stool running over to pick it up. She was about to call out after Gold that he had dropped something when her voice caught in her throat.

She stared down at the paper in her hand, her stomach sinking right down to her toes as another life stared back at her from the magazine clipping. 

“Are you okay?” Ruby called from the counter.

Belle turned back to her, her face pale.

“No," she said, her voice trembling. "I think you may have been right about Mr. Gold.”


	7. Chapter 7

Belle thanked her lucky stars that the diner was empty save for Ruby once Gold had left, the incriminating photo feeling heavy in her hand.

“I think you may have been right about Mr. Gold.”

“What do you mean?” Ruby asked, coming out from behind the diner counter. “You just agreed to go on a date with him. What did he drop on the floor?”

“Nothing,” Belle exclaimed, pocketing the magazine clipping. She wasn’t quite ready to share that part of herself with Ruby. She also wasn’t ready to hear another round of abuse against Gold just yet. Her feelings were too raw. “Just…I don’t think he’s who I thought he was.”

Ruby narrowed her eyes at her.

“Okay,” she said, unconvinced. “I don’t know what’s happening here. But I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. No more Mr. Gold.”

Ruby nodded her head decisively before heading back over to the counter.

No more Mr. Gold. If only Belle could drop him so easily.

She said her goodbyes to Ruby, promising to come by the inn later that night to sort out her Halloween costume.

She trudged back over to the library, glancing across the street at the pawnshop.

Belle was at a loss. Part of her wished she could march right over to the pawnshop and demand answers from Mr. Gold, but he was on his way to Camden, completely oblivious to what she’d found. She couldn’t even begin to think of what she would say to him in any case. There was only one word echoing through her head at the moment and that was _why_?

But the more Belle thought about it as the afternoon wore on, the more things made sense. Mr. Gold had been friendly and flirtatious with her at first. Then he’d avoided her for a week and shown up at the library flustered and nervous. He must have found the magazine at some point in that week. Then his entire demeanor toward her had changed. He’d become stand offish, making her wonder what she’d done to drive him off. The truth was, she hadn’t done anything, not to him anyway. Apparently posing in her underwear over a year ago was enough to derail Mr. Gold’s affections.

But that wasn’t quite right either, because he seemed to get over himself and he’d actually managed to ask her on a coffee date. Coffee. Like she was his maiden aunt.

Belle shook her head, raking a hand through her already tangled hair.

She knew what Ruby would say. That Mr. Gold was some sort of pervert, stashing away her photos. That he probably had some strange shrine to her in his basement and was planning on kidnapping her from their date and holding her hostage down there. That he probably had a room filled with the corpses of his exes like some modern day Bluebeard.

She was certain Gold wasn’t a monster, despite Ruby’s attacks. She had always prided herself on reading people, for seeing them for who they truly were rather than the person they wanted you to see. Gold had struck her as sweet, maybe a little broken, and most of all lonely. There was a good man in there and he had to have an explanation for his actions.

She wondered what time Gold would be back from Camden. Perhaps she could go to his house and demand answers. But he lived with his son and she certainly didn’t want to have a confrontation in front of a child.

No, she would have to wait until tomorrow to confront the man. That left her with nothing to do for the evening but stew.

Well, stew and go over to Ruby’s for help on a Halloween costume she really couldn’t give two shits about at the moment.

That was how she found herself in Ruby’s bedroom at the inn at a quarter until 8:00, listening to her friend ramble on about the Halloween party.

“So something tragic has happened, but it actually works out perfectly,” Ruby said, crossing to a small closet overflowing with clothes, mostly in shades of red. “My girlfriend Dorothy got called in to work for the night of the party which totally sucks, but it does mean you can wear her half of our couples costume!”

Belle smiled a little unenthusiastically, leaning out of the way as a ruby red platform sandal sailed past her head. Ruby tossed a pile of clothes out on to the floor behind her, clearly searching for something in the vermilion mess.

“Dottie is a little taller than you, but I think we can make it work.”

She finally pulled a garment bag from the closet, stumbling back from the fray and stepping over the pile of discarded clothes toward the bed. She unzipped the bag, first taking out a red pleather catsuit that Belle desperately hoped wasn’t for her. Ruby tossed the catsuit on the bed and took out another garment from behind it and Belle gave a sigh of relief.

“This one is for you,” Ruby said, handing over the gown.

Belle held it up in front of her, sleeveless, creamy white silk that slipped between her fingers like water. It appeared to hang loose from the shoulders, the delicate straps leading to a deep V in both the front and back.

“It looks like a nightgown,” Belle pointed out.

“That’s because it is,” Ruby said with a shrug.

“What am I supposed to be? A virgin sacrifice? Because sorry to break it to you but that ship sailed long ago.”

Ruby let out a loud guffaw, turning to dig around in her closet once more.

“Of course not,” she said, surfacing a moment later. Perched on her head were a pair of red rhinestone encrusted devil horns, and hanging from one hand, a pair of elaborate white feather wings. “We’re an angel and a devil!”

Belle’s mouth formed a little “oh”. “Of course you are,” she said. Ruby gave her a wink.

“Well, try it on,” Ruby prompted. “It’s ankle length on Dottie so it’ll probably be floor length on you. That’s okay though. Makes you look ethereal.”

Belle rolled her eyes, turning around to shuck off her sweater and skirt and pull the gown over her head. The silk whispered decadently over her skin, falling to puddle a few inches on the floor. The right shoes could take care of that issue, but there was another more pressing one when she moved to stand in front of Ruby’s large, floor-length mirror.

“How am I supposed to wear a bra with this?” she asked her reflection. The black lace straps of her bra were clearly visible and when she turned, the band cut across several inches above the deep V.

“Don’t,” Ruby said with a shrug.

Belle turned, her mouth hanging open.

“It’s late October in Maine, Ruby,” she said. “I can’t go out in a white nightgown and no bra. It’d be obscene.”

“Get some of those flesh toned stick on cups,” Ruby offered, clearly not seeing the problem Belle was. “That’s what Dorothy was going to do. And don’t worry about being cold. Just wear your coat over it until we get to the party. With all the people there it’ll be hot as hell inside.”

Belle shook her head and turned back to her reflection. The dress really was quite flattering, if she could get around the bra issue. The color offset her skin nicely and the way the silk skimmed her curves without hugging too tightly was just perfect. If only she had some form of underwear that could accommodate the dress.

A wicked idea burst forth in Belle’s brain and she could have smacked herself for not thinking of it sooner.

She owned a piece of lingerie that was completely backless and also had a plunging neckline to her navel. The gold ribbon that tied the halter together would be visible, but it would just add to her angelic ensemble.

Belle nearly snorted a laugh at the idea of Mr. Gold getting a peek of what she was wearing beneath her demure Halloween costume. God she hoped he’d show up to the party if only to torture him. Perhaps she’d drag him off to some dark corner, give him a taste, and then leave him wanting. She’d enjoy seeing his face pale when he realized she knew his little secret. Maybe Ruby was right and all he was after was sex. Perhaps he'd been interested in more but decided she obviously wasn't someone with whom he could have a relationship but was good for some fun. She could play the part for a night and leave him naked with no relief somewhere in the Mayor's home. If she was feeling particularly cruel, perhaps she'd tie him up. 

But in order for her dream to come to fruition, she had to make sure he attended the party. There were no two ways around it, she was going to have to confront Mr. Gold. She couldn’t imagine a single good reason for his carrying around her photo in his pocket, but she was going to at least give him a chance to come up with one.

She tugged on the dress, watching the silk swing about her legs and grinned.

“I think this is going to work perfectly, Ruby,” she said, spinning to face the other woman. “You are truly a lifesaver.”

* * *

Mr. Gold was having an uncommonly good Friday.

His trip to Camden had been fruitful, purchasing an antique armoire, a dining table and a dressing table, all from the early colonial period, that he was positive he could spruce up and sell for a profit. He’d been late getting back to Storybrooke the night before and consequently late to bed, but he still found himself springing out of bed at sunrise eager to get a start on the day.

He had a date with Belle French after all.

Finally, after almost two months of skirting around each other he had successfully asked her to coffee. He knew it wasn’t exactly sexy, a coffee date. It was probably the safest date he could have asked her on. Coffee at Granny’s in the middle of the afternoon wasn’t likely to lead to hand holding much less a goodnight kiss. But it was a start. He was looking forward to spending time with Belle without the awkwardness of the lingerie magazine hanging over them. He hadn’t even looked at the photo in his coat pocket in days. The real Miss French was so much more alluring than a static, posed photo could ever hope to be.

He opened the shop a bit early that morning, unable to sit around at home combatting the butterflies in his stomach with Neal watching him closely over his cereal bowl. He didn’t think the poor boy had quite forgiven him for the sex talk he’d attempted a few weeks ago. He’d sat down with his son and started with “as you get older you might find yourself having certain urges” and Neal had immediately jammed his fingers in his ears yelling that school had taken care of this already. He’d eventually managed to pry Neal’s hands from his ears to impart his sage wisdom on his son, but it had mostly amounted to telling him to respect women and always wear a condom. Neal had looked vaguely nauseous the entire time. That evening, under cover of darkness, he’d ordered a few books on Amazon and left them discreetly on Neal’s bedside table along with a note telling Neal to please come to him with any questions. So far his son hadn't taken him up on his offer.

Gold shook his head. He’d always thought he rather had a knack for parenting, but nothing had prepared him for a teenager.

His usual shop hours didn’t start for an hour yet so he set about recording his new inventory in his records. He had just made a notecard for the vanity table when the door to his shop blew open with a gust of autumn wind, a few leaves from outside scattering across the shop floor and the bell above the door clanging to the ground with a clatter.

Gold jumped, ink from his fountain pen splattering across the notecard and rendering it illegible.

In the wake of the door, Belle French stormed in like an avenging angel, eyes blazing and the color high in her cheeks.

“Belle,” he managed to gasp, staring at her, as always slightly hesitant to believe someone so beautiful could be real.

“You’re here,” Belle said, stopping just inside the doorway, the morning breeze still blowing in from outside and rustling the wind chimes he had hanging in the right hand corner of the shop. The tinkling sound of the chimes only added to the ethereal picture Belle made with the morning light streaming in behind her like a halo, illuminating the gloomy shop.

“As you see,” he said, motioning a hand at the paperwork spread out in front of him.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you until this afternoon,” he continued, as Belle still stood frozen in the doorway. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Belle seemed at war with herself, glancing quickly over her shoulder before coming to some sort of decision, her left hand fisting at her side.

“I’m not ashamed,” she announced apropos of nothing. She let the shop door slam behind her, stomping up to the counter, her block heels clunking against the hardwood.

Gold blinked.

“I beg your pardon?” he asked, genuinely confused.

Belle slapped something down on the counter in front of him and Gold looked down at it, his stomach sinking instantly.

It was a photo, his favorite, the one that had lived in his jacket pocket for the past few weeks. Somehow Belle had found it.

“I’m not ashamed,” Belle repeated, jabbing her finger at the glossy photograph of her in the gold teddy. “It was a job and I was compensated well for it. I graduated debt free. How many people can say that in this economy? It was a smart financial decision.”

He looked back up at her, his heart thumping so loudly she must have heard it. Over in the corner the stirring of the wind chimes let out their last jangle before falling silent, the shop suddenly oppressively quiet.

“How…” he began before shaking his head. “What?”

“And I don’t have to explain myself to you in any case!” she raged on. “It’s my body and I’ll do whatever the hell I want with it as long as I’m not hurting anyone else.”

“Okay,” Gold said, still confused. He was expecting to be reamed out as a pervert, not given a lesson on a woman’s bodily autonomy.

“So I don’t know what kind of prude you are that you can’t handle a little lingerie modeling,” Belle continued. “But if you’re going to look down on me for a few tasteful photos in my underwear, then that’s your loss. Because you had a very good chance of getting to experience this in real life rather than print if you’d just pull your pig head out of your arse!”

Gold shook his head again. Did she just tell him he'd had the opportunity to see her in lingerie for real and he'd somehow botched it? 

“What?” he managed again.

“You...you had that picture,” Belle said, some of her righteous fury burning off and leaving her looking uncertain. “You dropped it at the diner.”

“Oh,” he said. “Yes.”

“And that’s why you’d been so weird toward me,” she said. “Because you found out I used to model and you think it’s cheap or beneath you or I'm easy or something.”

Gold shook his head in disbelief. He knew he’d been fucking things up, but he thought he’d gotten better in the past couple of weeks.

“You seemed like you liked me at first and then you just…stopped,” Belle said. “And then you asked me out for coffee because I guess you decided I might be an easy lay or something after all.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “Oh, no. You’ve gotten this all wrong.”

“Have I?” Belle asked, a desperate look in her eyes. “Then why did you have this picture? Why wouldn’t you just tell me you’d seen it? Warn me it was circulating through town? That’s what a _friend_ would do! If you don’t think I’m cheap because of it and you don’t want to sleep with me, what possible use do you have of it?”

Gold blinked, dumbly, his mouth forming words before his brain had the opportunity to edit them.

“I don’t _not_ want to sleep with you.”

It was the wrong thing to say, Gold knew that immediately as Belle’s eyes widened, her mouth opening in horror.

“What, were you going to lure me into your basement and tie me up or something? Is that what happened to your wife?”

“My wife?” he said, shaking his head in confusion. Every time he thought he had a handle on this conversation she veered so far in another direction that he couldn’t keep up.

“Yeah,” Belle continued. “Everyone talks about her in hushed whispers like it’s some great secret. So what happened to her?”

Gold gaped at Belle. He knew people in town talked, a result of his own secrecy when it came to his private life. Rumors swirled and he did nothing to counteract them. They’d insulated him, provided a buffer from the world and instilled a healthy dose of fear in the townspeople that was beneficial to his business interests. He’d never wanted their good opinion, until now. He couldn’t let Belle think as badly of him as the rest of the town did. To lose her good opinion would be devastating. She’d once told him she liked him and even if that sentiment was now long gone, he couldn’t have her thinking worse of him than he deserved.

“She left me,” he said, looking down blindly at the papers spread across his countertop. “She found someone younger and better looking and she told me she’d never loved me and didn’t want the child I’d forced on her. Neal was six. Neither of us has seen her since.”

Belle’s mouth gaped open in horror.

“What?” she gasped.

“Milah abandoned us,” he said, straightening his spine and looking Belle in the eye. “I tried to make her happy but she didn’t want me and our son suffered for it. Would you care to bring up any more painful memories? Perhaps the day my father left me with my aunts and never returned.”

“Oh God,” Belle cried, covering her mouth with her hands in mortification. “I am so, so sorry.”

He shook his head, blowing a breath out between his teeth. “You couldn’t have known. No one does. They just know Milah was here one day and gone the next. I didn't want to air my dirty laundry to the town at the time and I’d rather not do so now, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” she said. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise.”

He nodded, tapping his fingers against the countertop in a nervous gesture.

“You might...,” he began, clearing his throat before starting again. “Perhaps you understand now why I’m a bit hesitant to enter into new relationships. No matter how enchanting I might find someone to be.”

A small smile crossed Belle’s lips and she shook her head jerkily, wiping it away.

“That still doesn’t explain why you were carting this picture around,” she said, picking up the photo in question. “Why didn’t you just tell me you knew about my modeling?”

Gold sighed, looking down at his hands braced against his countertop and then back up to Belle. It was time to tell her the truth. Even the most uncomfortable portions.

“Because I didn’t want you to know the truth.”

“Which is?” she prompted.

“That I’m a disgusting pervert who found photos of you in a catalogue in my teenage son’s room and rather than just throwing it away to preserve your dignity, I squirreled it away because I think you’re the most the beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my life and the fact that you have a mind and heart to match is so overwhelming to me that I couldn’t bring myself to get rid of the photos and instead kept them on my person at all times like a complete and utter buffoon.”

He finished off, taking a deep breath and Belle blinked rapidly as if trying to process everything he’d just said.

“Wait,” she said, holding up a finger. “Neal had the magazine?”

“That’s what you got from all that?”

Belle shrugged. “It makes his reaction to me showing up on your doorstep a bit more understandable.”

She closed her eyes, rubbing a hand across her face with a groan.

“God this is so embarrassing!” she said, letting her head roll back to stare up at the ceiling. “Does anyone else know? Should I expect an influx of angry calls from local parents wanting the library to stay closed?”

“No!” he exclaimed, then corrected himself. “Actually, yes. Gary Aston and Keith Nott know. I found them with a copy of the catalogue at the Rabbit Hole one day.”

“Gary,” Belle said, comprehension dawning as she looked at him warily. “I heard you beat him up.”

Gold should have realized his outburst at the Rabbit Hole would spread around town. Of course, he’d never cared about his reputation until now.

“He made some rather unkind remarks about you,” Gold said. “I merely reminded him that was no way to speak about a lady.”

Belle let out a breath, nodding to herself. She mumbled something that sounded like “ _fucking Ruby”_ but he couldn’t be certain.

“And the nuns?” she asked.

Gold was once again rendered utterly confused by the turn of this conversation. “What about the nuns?”

“I heard you kicked them out of the convent on Christmas one year.”

“Ah, yes,” Gold said with a smirk at the memory. “I don’t like nuns.” That wasn't entirely true. Most of the nuns were just fine. It was their leader he took umbrage with. 

Belle leveled him with a look saying she didn’t believe that excuse for a moment and Gold heaved a sigh. In one afternoon Belle was getting him to lay out every secret he had. If they continued in this fashion she’d know everything about him within a week, right down to his favorite childhood toy.

“Leroy and Astrid Miner,” he said by way of explanation, flicking his hair back from his eyes. Belle nodded for him to continue. “I don’t suppose you know…”

“She used to be a nun,” Belle finished his sentence. “Yeah it’s been mentioned.”

“When the Mother Superior found out about Astrid’s flirtation with Mr. Miner, she all but sequestered her in the convent, refusing to let her leave for any reason and hoping to end their romance before it began.”

“So you evicted them…” Belle trailed off.

“It was the easiest way to free Astrid,” he explained. “She and Leroy have been happily married for five years now. I don’t want to take credit for that, but…" he shrugged. "I’ve always been a fan of true love.”

Belle shook her head, sadly. “No one in this town knows the real you, do they?” she asked.

“It would appear not.”

Belle blinked, her eyes suspiciously wet.

“You’re a good man, Mr. Gold,” she said, nodding her head. “And here I was thinking the absolute worst of you.”

He rounded the counter, no longer wanting the barrier between them. If he'd been a bit more brave he'd have taken her hands, but he wasn't there yet. He couldn't have Belle blaming herself though, not when he'd made things so difficult. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I’m not exactly easy to get to know.”

“I should have tried harder.”

“You’ve tried far harder than anyone else in a very long time,” he said. “I’m not used to having friends. I’m afraid I didn’t make things easy on you.”

Belle worried her lip, pearly white teeth sinking into plump pink flesh and Gold’s eyes zeroed in on the motion.

“Is that what we are?” she asked. “Friends?”

His eyes flicked quickly from her lips back up to her eyes as if that wasn’t a clear enough “no” to her question.

“Yes,” he said.

“Oh,” Belle said, her mouth falling into a little oval. “But…” she trailed off, blushing prettily as her blue eyes darted away, scanning the merchandise hung on the shop wall behind him.

“But if you thought I was so wonderful and you don’t think I’m a cheap tart for doing that magazine spread, then why didn’t you just ask me out weeks ago?”

Gold huffed out a little laugh. How could she not see how utterly undeserving he was of her?

“Look at you,” he said, motioning toward her. “And look at me.” He placed a hand on his own chest and Belle's eyes settled on it before flicking up to meet his own. 

She smiled slyly. “I am looking,” she said, making a show of looking him up and down. “And if you remember, I was very clear in telling you I liked what I saw.”

Gold swallowed audibly at the memory of Belle’s eyes on his naked form. He’d been a complete idiot.

“I’m old enough to be your father,” he said plainly. He didn’t really want to call attention to his advanced age but it was something they had to discuss if they were to move forward with…whatever was happening between them.

“My father is sixty-eight years old,” Belle said simply. “Are you sixty-eight?”

“No,” he said, affronted that she would even ask. He was old but he wasn’t _that_ old.

He looked up at Belle to see that she was smirking.

“I didn’t think so,” she said. “And your son is only thirteen. I’m definitely older than thirteen.”

“Yes,” he said dumbly.

“So, you’re much younger than my father and I’m much older than your son. And even if you were the same age as my father what would it matter? We’re both adults.”

He couldn’t quite argue with her reasoning there.

“I’m very unpopular,” he pointed out.

Belle shrugged. “We’ve already ascertained that no one in this town really knows you. If Astrid and Leroy knew what you’d done for them do you think they’d still hate you?

Gold nodded. “Probably.”

Belle gave a weary little laugh.

“We need to work on your self esteem.”

He pulled a face. "It's a work in progress."

Silence enveloped them once again but this time it wasn't oppressive. Belle turned, trailing a hand across an ivory inlaid chess board, picking up one of the knights and turning it over in her hand. 

She was so lovely, a single perfect blooming rose in the center of his dusty old shop. He didn't deserve a moment of her time, but if she was inclined to give it to him he certainly wouldn't say no. With that in mind he had to ask about their date.

“I, um, I’m almost afraid to ask this, but are we still on for coffee this afternoon?”

Belle looked pensive for a moment before shaking her head. “No,” she said, and Gold’s heart stuttered uncomfortably. No matter that she liked the look of him or thought he was a good man. Obviously his awkward behavior over the past few weeks was too much for her. He should have come clean with her the moment he found the magazine, then maybe he’d have a chance. But he’d thrown away his only shot.

“Right,” he said, hating how hoarse his voice sounded. “Of course.”

Belle smiled, reaching her hand out to rest over his on the handle of his cane and he looked up at her, startled. It was the first time she’d ever reached for his hand.

“I think we need something more special for our first date,” she said.

Gold’s brain seemed to be short-circuiting, once again losing the plot of the conversation.

“What did you have in mind?” he asked.

Belle’s smile grew wider.

“Just before this goes any further, you do think I’m pretty, right?”

Gold nodded, dumbly.

“I think you’re the most exquisitely beautiful woman I’ve ever seen in my entire life.”

Belle blushed prettily, biting her lip in a fetching way. She pushed one chestnut lock of hair behind her ear with a grin.

“That’s good to know,” she said with a nod the continued almost to herself. “I can work with that.”

He wasn’t entirely sure what that meant, but he was positive it wouldn’t be good for his heart.

“The Halloween masquerade at the Mayor’s house,” she continued, clapping her hands together. “I’m planning on going and you’re going to be my date.”

"Oh am I?"

Belle's smile faltered for a moment. "I mean, only if you want to be," she said and Gold could have kicked himself. Of course he wanted to be Belle's date. He hated the mayor's annual soiree. It wasn't much fun when no one in town much liked the sight of you but it had been a necessary evil on occasion. But if he was there with Belle, he might just enjoy himself. 

"I would love to attend the masquerade with you, Belle," he said. He realized that until today, he'd never used Belle's given name. Her smile doubled in size and he endeavored to remember never to call her Miss French again. 

"Then it's a date," she said with a nod. "Tomorrow night. 8:00. Meet me at the Mayor's house." 

"Alright," Gold agreed. 

Belle deliberated for a moment before stretching up on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his cheek. It was the closest he'd ever been to Belle, the scent of her hair and a delicate whiff of vanilla enveloping him. The soft press of her lips against his cheek was enough to have his whole body leaning toward her and he gripped hard to his cane, hoping it would keep him upright. Belle lingered for a moment, her nose brushing against his temple and he was oh so tempted to turn his face and catch her lips with his own. He didn't though, and the moment soon passed, Belle pulling back with a smile.

“Oh," she said as she turned to leave. "I have a costume so you’d better wear one as well."

That was one thing he refused to compromise on. A three piece suit and some sort of mask was all he'd ever worn to the Halloween party and he had no plans to change that now. 

"I don't do costumes," he said.

Belle rolled her eyes. "It's a masquerade. You have to wear a costume."

"I don't have one," he pointed out. "And anyway a masquerade implies the necessity of a mask, not a costume."

Belle stepped back toward him, running a hand down the length of his paisley tie, her fingers curling in the silk fabric. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, the look in her eyes positively sinful.

"I promise I'll make it worth your while," she said, her voice a purr. Gold gulped. 

"Well," he said, his voice rasping out as barely a whisper. "What's your costume?"

Belle grinned, releasing his tie and stepping away. "That's for me to know and you to find out. See you later, Mr. Gold."

A moment later she was gone, only the slight scent of vanilla in the air and the stiffness in his pants evidence that she was ever there at all.  

 


	8. Chapter 8

He didn’t know what he was doing here.

Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly what he was doing here. Miss French had promised him untold delights if he showed up at Regina Mills’ annual Halloween masquerade, in costume. It was little consolation as he stared up at the mayor’s mansion from his Cadillac parked across the street. People were milling about outside on the front drive, working their way inside. There was music coming from somewhere in the house or on the grounds, a live band from the sounds of it. Lights were strung up throughout the trees dotting the Mayor’s front yard, lit up jack-o-lanterns lighting the path, and fake cobwebs covering the façade of the house.

Regina always went all out and this year would be no different.

The place was packed, and he looked like a fool.

He looked down at his costume, such as it was, brushing imaginary lint from his waistcoat. He felt silly wearing a tuxedo. It was formal, even for him. But his hurriedly thrown together costume required one so here he was, sat in his car outside the party and deliberating whether he should go home and forget the whole thing.

That was impossible of course. He’d already caused Belle so much pain that he couldn’t even entertain the idea of blowing off their date.

It was a date. She had said date. His first date with Belle was going to take place in front of the entire town.

He shook his head. It was exactly what Belle wanted. She was making a statement in her own Belle way. She liked Mr. Gold and she wasn’t afraid who knew it. What better way to say that than to parade him around the biggest social gathering of the year? She was absolutely fearless and he could only hope some of that courage would rub off on him.

With that in mind he affixed his half mask to his face, fixing his hair where it was ruffled from the strap.

That was the other thing. He’d done something fairly insane the night before and he had no idea how Belle would take the change. She liked the look of him, but he certainly didn’t. He’d decided a drastic change was needed and he only hoped he wouldn’t live to regret his decision. Neal had burst into laughter when he’d seen him.

He slammed the mirror on his car’s sun visor shut, shoving it up against the roof of the Cadillac. He really hoped Belle wouldn’t laugh. He knew she was too kind to ever mock him intentionally, but he might startle one out of her. He wasn’t sure he could take it.

He grabbed his cape from the seat next to him, climbing out of the car with the help of his cane. He swung the cape up about his shoulders, tying it artfully, and he was finally in full costume. He already owned a tuxedo, he’d had a vintage opera cape gathering dust in the back of his shop for years. The only part of the costume he’d had to purchase was the mask and since the Halloween party had become such a local tradition in the past few years, the stores were overflowing with them. He’d been rather proud of himself for putting something together so quickly but now he felt foolish. He should have just stuck to his traditional three-piece suit and a pair of devil horns or something.

He sighed. No. Belle wanted him to dress up, so dress up he did.

He squeezed the handle of his cane in his grip, taking a deep, fortifying breath, before he started up the drive to the party.

There were a few odd glances his way, but no one said anything as he entered the Mayor’s mansion. He saw Leroy and Astrid in the foyer, the former dressed as a lumberjack and barely distinguishable from his usual clothing choices save the prop ax slung over one shoulder. Astrid was dressed like a deer, little antlers affixed to her head with a brown knee length dress and tights. It seemed an apt costume for her as her doe-like eyes widened at the sight of Gold and she shifted ever so slightly behind her husband.

Gold gave them a nod they didn’t return before continuing forward. There was a gasp to his right and he glanced over. An older woman dressed like Little Bo Peep with a large crook in her hand was staring at the staircase, one hand covering her mouth as though she’d just seen something awe inspiring.

He turned to follow her gaze and saw nothing more than Regina. He glanced back at Bo Peep but she’d turned red and averted her eyes.

“Mr. Gold,” Regina said with surprise, swanning down her grand staircase to meet him. She was in one of her typical elaborate get ups, a sweeping crimson gown with an Elizabethan neckline, covered in delicate rhinestone hearts. Perched on top of her head was a tiara inlaid with what he suspected to be real rubies. In her hand she carried a heart shaped mask that would cover her entire face. A Queen of Hearts he imagined. He hadn’t attended one of these parties in years but it seemed Regina was still working her way through every possible villain in the Disney canon for costume inspiration. 

She gawked at him, taking in his short hair, eyes sweeping over his costume.

“What an unexpected pleasure. I had no idea you were planning to attend my little get together.”

“It was a last minute decision,” he said.

“And so festive too,” Regina said, with a little shrug of her shoulder. “What ever has inspired this burst of holiday spirit?”

“I have been known to leave my shop on occasion,” he said, his voice bored.

“Yes, but it usually takes something precious to entice you away,” she said, her eyes raking over him in a calculating way.

Gold ignored her glancing past the staircase into the ballroom where people were milling about

“If you’re looking for our new librarian, I haven’t seen her,” Regina said, and his eyes snapped back to her.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Regina gave a roll of her eyes, fanning herself with her mask. “Oh don’t play coy,” she said. “Everyone in town has seen the way you look at the poor girl. Do me a favor and don’t scare her off. People are expecting that library to open and I don’t want to delay things by going through the whole hiring process again.”

“And where is Miss Swan this evening?” he cut across her.

Regina narrowed her eyes at him. “Still trick or treating with Henry. They’ll be back later. Why?”

“If you’re going to pry into my personal affairs, it’s only fair I should get to do the same.”

Regina rolled her eyes. “Well go on then, you lovesick bastard. But if I have to hire a new librarian, you’re paying the moving costs.”

Gold grunted noncommittally, turning away from Regina and her self satisfied smile.

“Oh and Gold,” Regina called after him with a smirk. “I like the hair. Brings out your eyes.”

“Oh shut up,” he griped, stomping away from her toward the ballroom. He could hear Regina’s cackle from behind him.

A quick scan of the ballroom proved Regina was right. Belle was nowhere to be seen. An uncomfortable feeling prickled along his spine. What if this had all been some elaborate scheme to humiliate him? Make Mr. Gold show up in costume to the Halloween party and then stand him up, wouldn’t that be good fun? It would certainly be payback for his childish reaction to her lingerie photos.

Gold gripped the handle of his cane tighter, feeling the metal bite in to his hand. No. Belle wouldn’t do that. He knew her better than to think her capable of cruelty. She was just running late for some reason. He checked the pocket watch tucked into his waistcoat, thirty minutes late.

He skirted around the party, everyone giving him a wide berth. He knew he had a glower on his face, only partially hidden by his mask. He resented every one of them for not being Belle. He should have just stayed home tonight. He was stupid to think Belle could ever return his feelings. She wasn’t coming and his heart was all the more battered for the sliver of hope he’d allowed in.

Until all of a sudden there she was across the ballroom, and his breath actually stopped at the sight of her.

He’d often thought of Belle as an angel in disguise but now he saw his imagination had failed spectacularly. She was stunning, dressed in a white silk gown that hung loose from her shoulders, the plunging neckline giving a hint of her delectable cleavage and the fabric just skimming over her perfect backside. She had a pair of feathered wings attached to her back and a delicate white lace half mask covering her eyes. As she turned, one of her wings smacked Ruby in the shoulder and she pulled back with a laugh, the little gold halo balanced on her hair bobbing with the motion. She was beautiful and funny and beloved and what in God’s name did she see in him?

“Close your mouth already, you’re starting to drool,” Regina said as she passed him, bumping him purposefully with her elbow.

Gold snapped his mouth shut, glaring after her. She was right though. There was no use standing across the room from Belle and ogling her like a fool. With that in mind he grabbed two glasses of champagne from a passing waiter, balancing them in his free hand as he stalked his way toward her.

Belle had her back to him, engaged in conversation with Ashley Boyd and Mary-Margaret Nolan, the latter eyeing him warily as he approached. He didn’t want to interrupt, but at the same time he was desperate for confirmation that this was a date, that she was here with him, that he hadn’t somehow hallucinated the entire thing.

He chanced a hand on her arm, briefly relishing the softness of her skin before Belle turned, fixing her blue eyes on him.

“Oh holy fuck!” she exclaimed, her exquisite eyes going wide. He could have said something along the same lines at the sight of her, though he was sure the intent would be different.

“I’m sorry,” he said, taking a step back. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No,” Belle said with a shake of her head. “You didn’t. It’s just…”

She trailed off, her eyes raking over him.

“I cut my hair,” he said dumbly.

“Yes,” she said with a nod. “I see that.”

“You hate it.”

“No!” she exclaimed. “I mean, I loved your longer hair but this…” she broke off, swallowing audibly. “This is a good look.”

He breathed a sigh of relief now that he had her approval. He just wished he could think of something to say to her. She looked so beautiful it was like every thought he’d ever had had abandoned him completely, leaving him as useless as the first time he’d spoken to her after chancing upon the magazine.

Luckily Belle was a far better conversationalist.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said with a shrug of one delicate shoulder. She truly looked it too. “Ruby had a bit of a wardrobe malfunction that held us up.”

She leaned forward, her voice low. “Her pleather cat suit ripped straight up her butt.”

The revelation startled a snort out of Gold and Belle smiled at him.

“What do you think of my costume?” she asked, twirling this way and that, the silk swirling about her.

“Very…um, very nice,” he stuttered out.

Belle raised an eyebrow.

“Beautiful,” he clarified. “You look beautiful.”

Her smile was radiant as she swept her long curls to one side and Gold caught a glimpse of something gold tied about her neck, almost like a halter, and he couldn’t help his mind from wandering to what she was wearing underneath her dress. Belle was watching him out the corner of her eye and gave him a secretive little smile.

His mouth suddenly felt dry and he remembered the champagne in his hand. 

“Champagne?” he asked, holding forward the glasses.

“Thanks,” Belle said, taking one. “I’m parched.”

Mary-Margaret and Ashley had disappeared when he arrived and, for the moment, they were blessedly alone among the crowd. There were a few suspicious glances being shot their way, but Gold’s reputation was such that no one dared actually say anything to them.

They sipped their champagne, making idle chit chat about nothing in particular until Belle bit her lip, giving him another once over.

“You know, you couldn’t possibly have picked a better costume for tonight.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh really?”

“Yes,” she said with a nod. She reached up on her tiptoes, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. “I had a major thing for the Phantom as a teenager.”

“Did you?” he asked dumbly.

“Oh yeah,” she said, trailing a finger down the buttons of his waistcoat. “A dark, mysterious, misunderstood stranger…” she trailed off, looking at him appreciatively.

“And horribly disfigured?” he supplied.

Belle snorted. “I’ve always been of the opinion that beauty is only skin deep. It’s what’s inside that counts.”

Gold just looked at her confusedly. He knew he was nothing to look at, so it made sense that physical appearance didn’t mean much to Belle. But he was certain his personality in no way made up for the deficit.

Belle leaned forward conspiratorially again, her hand stealing around his back and underneath the tails of his tuxedo jacket to rest on his backside.

“Of course, if the exterior package is nice too, that’s an added bonus.”

She gave him a quick squeeze before pulling her hand away and Gold almost toppled over, clutching to his cane for support.

“Why, Miss French,” he gasped, his voice raspy.

“Don’t be fooled by the halo, Gold,” she said, taking a sip of her champagne. “I’m not that innocent.”

"Oh I sincerely hope not."

With that promise hanging between them, Belle grasped his free hand, pulling him with her through the throngs of partygoers. There was some horrible song playing over the loudspeaker and Belle finished off her champagne, dropping her empty glass on a side table before pulling him out on the dance floor with her.

“Can you…” she began. “I mean, are you up for dancing with me?”

Gold nodded dumbly, hooking his cane over his right arm before offering Belle his hand. The cane was more for balance than anything else, and with Belle in his arms he was kept upright just fine. Luckily, as they started to sway together, the thumping bass gave way to something slower and more melodic. Belle rested her head against his chest and his arm wrapped around her waist, her small hand in his. He was certain she could hear his heart beneath her cheek, beating wildly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had danced with someone and certainly not in public.

The top of her head reached right beneath his nose and he could smell the light vanilla scent of her shampoo. It took everything in him not to bury his face in her hair and breathe her in as though he could fill himself with her, pulling her light and goodness and courage within himself until he was someone deserving of her. 

He was well aware of the strange glances they were drawing from around the room. The pretty new librarian was dancing with Mr. Gold, how scandalous! He smirked to himself, pulling her even tighter against him, her softer curves fitting nicely against his harder edges, as if they’d been made to fit that way. 

“We have an audience,” he whispered against her ear and Belle leaned back just enough to look up at him.

“They’re just jealous,” she said, giving him a radiant smile.

Gold snorted. “Worried for you, more like. Wondering what possible blackmail material I have on you to force you to spend time with me.”

Belle’s eyebrows knitted together, her eyes suddenly the color of storm clouds.

“Don’t say things like that.”

“Like what?” he asked.

“Like you’d have to blackmail me into dating you. I don’t like it when you put yourself down.”

He realized they’d stopped swaying to the music, just standing still in the middle of the dance floor holding each other, and attracting even more attention that way.

“I’m just saying what everyone else is thinking,” he said with a shrug. He felt self conscious suddenly in a way he usually didn’t. He didn’t care what the town thought. He relished their bad opinion. It usually worked to his advantage. But Belle was popular. He didn’t want her reputation to suffer because of him.

“I don’t care what other people think,” Belle said with a shake of her head.

Gold sighed. “You say that now.”

Belle fixed him with a look. “Do you remember when I came to your house that day you were sick? You tried to tell me then that being your friend would alienate other people. Do you remember what I told you then?”

Of course he remembered. Her words had bolstered him, giving him something to hope for for the first time in years.

“That you liked me,” he said, his hand tightening on her waist. “And you trust your own judgment better than anyone else’s.”

“That’s right,” she said with a nod. “I like you. _That_ certainly hasn’t changed, despite you being a secret pervert who likes to look at pictures of me in my panties.”

Gold rolled his eyes, the hand on her waist tickling her in retaliation.

"You're hilarious," he deadpanned as she squirmed against him. "But no matter how much you like me, you must face that no one else does. Dating me is sure to make you a subject of unkind gossip. People will say you're only with me for my money or that I'm somehow forcing you. It won't be easy."

Belle's hand trailed up from where it was resting against his chest to cup the back of his neck. It was the only warning he had before she reached up on her tiptoes, pulling him down to meet her and claim his lips in a kiss. Her other hand pushed his mask up off his face before cupping his cheek, holding him there. She needn't have bothered. He certainly was in no rush to end things. The kiss itself was a gentle thing, just the sweet pull of her soft lips against his, but it was enough to leave his whole body tingling. Belle pulled back after a moment, smiling up at him.

“There,” she said, carding her fingers through the short hair at the back of his neck and sending shivers down his spine. “That should give them all something to talk about.”

Gold chanced a dazed glance around only to see Leroy blatantly staring at them, Regina looking like she was about to laugh, Ruby with her mouth gaped open in horror, and the Nolan’s pointedly not looking at them at all.

“Do you want to get out of here?” he asked, a little hot under the collar in a way that had nothing to do with the gaping spectators.

Belle bit her lip, giving him a look that was anything but innocent. 

“I thought you’d never ask."


	9. Chapter 9

It seemed no part of the house was immune from crowds or the thumping sound of the music. Gold was starting to wonder if this wasn’t a colossal failure of a first date. Despite the rather nice kiss Belle had given him, they hadn’t really had much of a chance to talk and the scrutiny of the town’s eyes had him constantly looking over his shoulder.

Finally they found themselves in a sunroom overlooking the backyard. The wall of windows didn’t give much insulation from the cold autumn air outside, but at least it was empty. Perhaps he should have just taken her back to his place, though that seemed a bit forward. Neal was spending the night at a friend’s house for Halloween and Gold was certain they were getting in to all sorts of mischief. Last year he’d had a call that Neal and his friends had egged the sheriff’s office and there was no doubt they had a similar prank in mind for this year. He wasn’t much concerned with that at the moment though. His home was blessedly empty and free for their use. Was that okay? What did one do on a date these days anyway? He was so terribly out of practice.

“So,” Belle said, turning to face him. “Alone at last.”

“Yes,” he agreed, dumbly, transfixed by how beautiful she looked in the moonlight streaming in through the windows. She’d told him he couldn’t have picked a better costume, but he thought hers was perfect as well. There was clearly something divine about Belle French.

“Where were we?” she continued, stepping toward him, her silk gown whispering across the tiled floor with every movement.

“You were telling me just how little you cared for anyone else’s good opinion.”

Belle bit her lip, cocking her head to the side.

“That’s not entirely true,” she said. “I always wanted _your_ good opinion. It’s why I was so worried I’d done something dreadful and scared you off.”

Gold sighed, reaching for her. He stroked his hand down her bare arm, relishing the softness of her skin, finally reaching her hand and clasping it in his own.

“I’m sorry for how I acted,” he said. “I was a prize idiot.”

“Yes,” Belle agreed. “You were. But that’s all in the past now. I don’t want to rehash it when we can do other much more enjoyable things.”

“Like what?” he asked with a smirk, looping his arm around her waist and pulling her toward him. Belle stumbled a bit, her foot catching on her too long gown and she pitched forward against his chest. Gold’s arm tightened around her, leaning heavily on his cane to keep them both upright.

“Oops,” Belle said with a giggle that scrunched up her nose. “But now I’m in the perfect position for all those enjoyable things.”

She gripped on to his shoulders, pushing up on her toes to kiss him again.

Gold wasn’t surprised this time, they no longer had an audience, and he was intent on doing this right. He reached up to cup her face, his thumb stroking across her cheekbone. He dropped his cane, his other hand stroking down her side, clutching her waist, the feathers on her wings tickling the back of his hand. Belle moaned as his tongue pushed in to her mouth, twining with hers as he kissed her deeper.

She raked her hands through his shorter hair, tugging his mask from his face until it fell on the floor behind him, unheeded. Belle pulled back from the kiss and Gold leaned forward on instinct, not wanting to break the contact.

“I like the hair,” she murmured, pressing another feather soft kiss to his lips. “Definitely like the hair. But why’d you do it?”

“Needed a change,” he said. “Got tired of the same old grumpy bugger in the mirror day after day.” His hands roamed across Belle’s wings, sliding down over her rear end and cupping her bottom through the thin silk of her dress. The motion brought her pelvis in line with his and had the unintentional side effect of pressing his rather hard cock up against her.

“Oh!” Belle gasped, her eyes going wide behind her mask. “Well, hello.”

Gold winced.

“Sorry,” he said, taking a step back from her, but Belle just followed him, staying pressed against his chest.

“Don’t apologize,” she said. “You’re a man, I’m a woman, you clearly want to fuck me. It’s only natural.”

Gold nearly swallowed his own tongue, looking down at Belle.

“What?” he asked, his voice coming out strangled.

A wicked smile crossed Belle’s face.

“You want to fuck me,” she teased in a sing-song voice, her hands tickling up his sides.

“No I don’t,” he exclaimed. Belle pulled back, her eyes wide.

“Oh.”

“I mean, not no. Yes, obviously. That would be very nice. But that’s not all I’m after.”

“I know,” Belle said with a sigh. “You said all those lovely things yesterday, but I also know myself and I can interpret things really wrong at times. I didn’t want to assume you want more than something physical. I mean Ruby said you weren’t exactly a relationship guy.”

“You have got to stop listening to Ruby,” he said with an exasperated sigh. “Yes, I’m a relationship guy. I haven’t had that many but I certainly like being in them. I’m not a one-night stand guy. I certainly want more than that.”

“You – you do?” Belle swallowed audibly.

Gold sighed again, cursing himself. He was self-conscious, he was down on himself, but so was Belle. Because of his actions, she thought he was only interested in her for one thing. And despite his very fervent interest in that thing, it couldn’t be further from the truth.

“Do you know which one of those photos was truly my favorite?” he asked. “Not the one where you looked like a dominatrix, or the one where you were decked head to toe in gold. But the one where you’re wearing that sweet little pajama set. Because that’s how I want to see you. Fresh faced, first thing in the morning in your comfortable jammies with your hair a mess and hot chocolate on the tip of your nose.

He punctuated his declaration by tapping his index finger against the very adorable nose in question and Belle giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. 

“Seeing me in my pajamas first thing in the morning implies I’ve slept over though,” she purred.

“Yes,” he agreed, his voice low. “I’d also like to fuck you.”

Belle bit her lip, looking up at him from beneath her eyelashes.

“Well then,” she said. “What are you waiting for?”

Gold’s hands tightened on her waist, his eyes widening.

“What, now? Here?”

Belle simply nodded, pressing closer against him.

“We’re at the Mayor’s house,” he said.

“Yes,” she agreed. “A very large house with lots of rooms. Rooms with locks on the doors. It’s not quite as scandalous as you’re making out.”

“Or we could go back to my place,” he offered, glancing around to make certain they were still alone in the sunroom.

“We could,” Belle agreed. “But where’s the fun in that?”

Gold raised an eyebrow wondering just how in over his head he really was here.

“Why Miss French,” he said teasingly, his hands stroking across her hips. “Are you a bit of an exhibitionist?”

Belle snorted. “Maybe just a bit. I promise I won’t let it get out of hand.”

He kissed her again then, the first time he’d initiated it. Her lips tasted like champagne and vaguely of cherries. She smelled like vanilla and felt like heaven in his arms. She was sweeter than any confection he could imagine and for some borderline insane reason she wanted him. He wasn’t going to blow this with his fears and insecurities.

He pulled back from the kiss, breathing heavily as he pressed his forehead against Belle’s.

“Alright then,” he said. “Lets find a room.” 

* * *

 

They bumped and bumbled down the upstairs hallway, finally finding a door and knocking it open. The door bounced against the wall, swinging back toward them as they stumbled inside.

There was a pennant for a local sports team on the wall, a stack of comic books on the table next to the twin bed covered in a blue plaid duvet, and a table lamp shaped like a dinosaur.

“This is a child’s room,” Belle said flatly, looking around.

“Henry,” Gold supplied. “The mayor’s son. He’s ten.”

“Ah.”

“Lets get out of here.”

“Yes.”

A few doors down afforded them more luck, a queen-sized bed covered in a dove gray duvet cover and flanked by metallic silver end tables. Across the room, the closet door stood open revealing nothing inside but a stack of bed linens and a folded up ironing board.

Not Regina’s room then.

“Guest room,” Belle said with a sigh. “Perfect.”

As soon as the door was shut behind them, they were kissing again. Gold didn’t think he’d ever be able to stop now that he’d had a taste of her. It was a very good thing they were both relationship types. If he’d only had her for a night he didn’t think he’d be able to live with the loss.

Belle backed him over to the bed and he sat down, pulling her with him. Belle hiked up the skirt of her dress, straddling his thighs without breaking their kiss, her hands in his hair once more. He’d forgotten his mask down in the sunroom and he realized Belle still had hers on. As erotic as the sight of Belle in nothing but a lace half mask would be, he wanted to see her eyes unencumbered.

He reached behind her head, tugging on the ribbon to untie it and the mask fell loose. He cast it aside, pulling back to look at Belle. Her eyes were dark, navy in the low light of the room with her pupils blown wide. Her lips were wet and swollen from kisses, her cheeks flushed. She was simply the most gorgeous sight he could ever imagine.

Belle ground her hips against his and his breath stuttered, his cock painfully hard in his tux trousers. It had been so long, and he was sure this would be over embarrassingly quickly. He just hoped he could please Belle before his impending shame.

He pushed his hands through her hair, pulling his mouth from hers to kiss down her neck, his tongue painting patterns against her skin. He kissed across to her shoulder, reaching the strap to her gown and began to push it down when Belle put a firm hand on his chest, stopping him.

“What?” he asked, looking up at her with dark eyes. If she wanted to stop now, of course he’d listen, but his body would hate him.

“I have a surprise for you,” she said mischievously, pushing herself up off of his lap. He missed her warm presence immediately, his hands reaching for her with a mind of their own.

Belle gave him a little wink before she pulled her little angel wings off her back, tossing them aside. Then she tugged the straps of her dress over her shoulders. The silk fabric ran over her body like liquid, pooling at her feet and leaving her standing in nothing but the infamous gold teddy.

Gold’s mouth went dry, all the air seemingly squeezed from his chest. There she was, straight out of his wildest fantasies. How someone so tiny had such amazing curves, he’d never quite know, but Belle managed it. Her shapely legs were sinfully long in matching gold heels. The deep V of her teddy left little to the imagination, showing off the swell of her breasts and her toned stomach. He realized he was staring and his eyes snapped back up to Belle’s face, a pleased smirk on her face.

“That’s…” Gold gestured at her body. “It’s the…from the…you have it?”

Belle shrugged, her perfect breasts bouncing with the motion, barely contained by the tiny scrap of lace encasing them.

“They let me keep a few things from the shoot. Do you like?”

Gold sputtered.

“Like it?” he rasped out around a cough. “It’s only haunted me for weeks. Every time I closed my eyes I pictured you in that. It made it very difficult to hold a conversation with you.”

Belle arched an eyebrow. “Yeah I noticed that.”

“You…you…you’ve had it all this time,” he stuttered out.

“Yep,” Belle agreed with a nod. “Right there in my underwear drawer in the very apartment you’ve been in a hundred times to fix boilers and leaky sinks. Just imagine how much sooner you could have seen this if you weren’t such a bloody idiot.”

“Oh shut up,” Gold joked, reaching for her hand and tugging her to him. She went willingly, standing between his parted legs as he took her in.

“Beautiful,” he said, his hands skimming over her sides. She was far more stunning in the flesh than a picture in a magazine could ever be.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Belle said gamely. “But you seem a little overdressed now.”

“I promise I look better in the tux than out of it.”

Belle raised a questioning eyebrow, pushing his tuxedo jacket from his shoulders and he let her, despite his earlier protest. Then she reached up and undid his bowtie, pulling it from his shirt collar and dropping it to the side. He was utterly entranced by her, watching her slowly undress him. She had his shirt unbuttoned before his brain caught up with what was happening and Belle wrapped her arms around his neck in a way that put her breasts right in his eye line.

“I’ve seen you naked before, remember?” she asked, nudging his chin up to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, bent over, flaccid, and not bothering to suck in my gut, I’m sure I was a real pretty picture.”

Belle leaned in, whispering in his ear. “I’ve gotten myself off to that memory.”

His face must have been a mask of shock or disgust because Belle pulled back looking worried.

“Was that too much information?” she asked.

“No,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’m just sad for you that that’s the memory that gets you off. What a sad life you must have had.”

Belle smacked his shoulder, shoving him back down against the mattress and crawling over him.

“Like you’ve never gotten off to the thought of me,” she accused. “I’m sure you held on to my photo spread purely for aesthetic reasons.”

“That’s different,” he said with a pout. “Your photos were designed to be sexy. I was just trying to quickly change my clothes.”

“And you managed to still look sexy without a hair and makeup team. If only it was as effortless for all of us.”

Gold shook his head, snorting out a laugh and Belle bent her head to kiss him. Her hands slipped in to his open shirt, trailing over his abdomen and up over his nipples, plucking at them lightly. He shuddered, jerking away from her and Belle sat up, a wicked smile crossing her face.

“Wait,” she said. “Are you ticklish?”

Gold looked up at her defensively. “Maybe a wee bit,” he admitted.

Belle’s fingers whispered up his sides and he flinched again, grabbing on to her hands to still them.

Belle looked absolutely delighted and Gold was sure he was in for it, having given her a glimpse of his weakness.

“I’m done,” she promised, holding her hands up innocently. “But I’m definitely stowing that away for later.”

Gold let out a growl, flipping their positions so Belle was pinned beneath him on the bed.

“I think it’s my turn to torture you now,” he said. His erection had flagged somewhat with all the tickling, but now with Belle beneath him looking like a goddess out of his wildest dreams, he surged back to life. Her dark curls were spread out on the pillows, her chest heaving with her laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed this much in bed. This is what it was supposed to be like. Fun. Sex had never been much fun in his experience.

Or lack of, to put too fine a point on it. He froze, Belle looking up at him questioningly, having no idea just what rare company she was in.

“Are you okay?” she asked, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek.

“Actually it’s um…been a while for me,” he said, his eyes fixed on her shoulder so he didn’t have to look her in the eye with his admission.

“That’s okay,” she said with a shrug. “It’s been a while for me too.”

“No,” he said, needing to clarify the situation. “I don’t mean a few months long. I mean,” he swallowed, hating himself for how much he was about to disappoint her. “I mean I’ve lost count of the years long.”

“Oh,” Belle said, her eyebrows rising ever so slightly. “Your ex-wife?”

“No,” Gold said with a sigh. “That wasn’t my only relationship disaster. The one that followed was the nail in the coffin as far as my love life was concerned.”

He shot her a look.

“I’m out of practice.”

“It’s not really the kind of thing you forget how to do,” Belle said pushing a hand through his hair. “And trust me, you’re not alone in the dating disaster department.”

He arched an eyebrow at her in question.

“My last relationship ended after two months because I told her I thought we should move in together.”

“Her?” he asked, surprised.

Belle nodded. “Is that…is that a problem for you?”

“No,” he promised with a shake of his head. “Not at all.”

“Good,” she said with a sigh. “Some guys get weird about it. Start thinking it’ll be non stop threesomes or something.”

Gold’s eyes bulged. He was fairly certain he couldn’t satisfy one woman, let alone two at the same time.

“I don’t want to have a threesome.”

Belle grinned. “Me neither. I just want you.”

“I want you too,” he said, bending his head to kiss her. His hand skimmed up her thigh, pulling her leg up to wrap around his hip. Their new position had him cradled between her legs and he had to bite his lip at the feel of his cock nestled against her heat. He kissed across her cheek and down her neck, biting and sucking as he charted a path across her skin.

“You’re already way better at this than you think you are,” she moaned, her head falling back against the pillows as his mouth latched on to her pulse point.

His hand inched up her thigh, brushing against the soft skin until he reached her center, dipping his hand beneath the fabric covering her sex.

“God, you’re wet,” he moaned against her neck at the first feel of her slick folds.

“I told you you were good at this,” Belle said with a breathy little laugh.

As much as he loved what Belle was wearing, it wasn't exactly conducive to all the things he wanted to do to her. 

“As pretty as this is,” he said, stroking a finger down the plunging neckline of her lingerie, over the swell of her breast. “It’s really just getting in the way at this point, don’t you think?”

Belle nodded, reaching behind her neck to untie the halter keeping the teddy up. He reached up to peel the gold lace from her body, pulling it down until she lifted her hips off the bed so he could pull it down her legs and off completely.

He sucked in his breath at the sight of her completely bare. Long legs, pale skin, pert breasts with achingly sweet little pink nipples. The cleft between her legs was glistening with her arousal and he wanted to taste every inch of her. He ducked his head, licking the flat of his tongue across her nipple and Belle moaned in pleasure, her arms wrapping around his shoulders and holding him to her. His hand returned to between her legs, stroking across her tender flesh, teasing her with light touches. 

"More," she moaned. "I need more." 

He kissed across her breasts and down the length of her belly, letting out a groan at the scent of her. He stroked his hands across her thighs, parting them before placing a kiss on her mound.

Belle let out a stuttered gasp, her hand cupping the back of his head. This was at least one thing he was reasonably confident at doing. Toward the end of their marriage it was about the only intimacy Milah allowed so he must have been decent at it.

His tongue parted her folds, gently probing, as his hands continued to massage her thighs. Belle’s fingernails scraped along his scalp, a little whimper escaping her as wetness coated his lips. God she tasted as heavenly as she looked.

He groaned, lapping at her with steady strokes of his tongue against her tender flesh, working her up to her peak slowly. He shifted his position, pushing two fingers deep inside of her as his tongue circled her clit and Belle’s back arched up off the bed, her fingernails digging in to his scalp, the sting only adding to the pleasure of the moment.

“So…so good,” she panted.

She was tightening around his fingers, so hot and wet and his cock was screaming to be inside her, but not yet. He pressed his pelvis in to the mattress, trying to take some of the edge off his arousal.

He kept things slow and deliberate, his lips latching around her clit, stroking with his tongue in concert with the thrusts of his fingers. Belle’s thighs began to shake, her wetness bathing his chin as she came with a breathy cry. She drew her knees up as she shuddered around his fingers, her body jerking beneath him and he kept stroking her, more shallowly as she came down from her high.

“Holy shit,” she moaned, her head rolling back against the pillows. Gold pulled his fingers from her, licking her essence from them before crawling back up her body. They’d made a bit of a mess of the duvet, but that was a worry for another time.

Belle reached for him, pulling him over her so she could kiss him, groaning at the taste of herself on his lips.

“You’re um…” she moaned between kisses. “You’re good at that. Never disparage yourself again, okay?”

“Glad I didn’t disappoint,” he chuckled against her lips.

His hands cupped her breasts, squeezing gently as he pressed kisses to Belle's cheeks and jaw as her breathing slowed. His cock was rigid and he was fit to burst at any moment, but he tried to restrain himself, letting Belle set the pace.  

“Get in me,” she begged, finally. “Please.”

He couldn’t deny her anything, and certainly not something he wanted just as badly.

“Alright,” he agreed. He pulled back for just a moment to shuck off his pants and boxers before he was back over her, his cock impossibly hard against Belle’s belly.

“I uh…I didn’t expect this,” he admitted. “I don’t have anything. For protection.”

“I’m good,” she promised. “We’re good. I get a shot. No babies. Unless you wanted them of course in which case I’d be open to a discussion. Eventually. Not now, obviously. I’m gonna shut up now, could you just fuck me please?”

Gold laughed again at her babbling, pressing his forehead against hers as he lined them up.

“Wait!” Belle exclaimed, and he froze, eyes wide.

“What?” he asked.

“I don’t know your name,” she said, smacking a hand against her forehead. “I shouldn’t be having sex with someone when I don’t know his name no matter how sexy I think he is.”

“Rafe,” he said, taking himself in hand again. “You can call me Rafe.” 

It seemed silly that she didn't know his name. It wasn't some great secret, but he supposed it was part of the distance he'd created between himself and anyone else save his son. No one called him by his first name. Belle could have it. She could even have his embarrassing middle name if it just meant they could continue without further interruption. 

“I like it,” Belle said, stroking her hands down his back. “Rafe.”

The sound of his given name on her lips was enough to have him surging forward, sinking in to her easily and Belle’s back arched of the bed, her breasts pressing against his chest.

“God, you feel amazing,” she exclaimed, gripping on to his back, her nails scoring his skin, and Gold swallowed her words with a kiss. She was perfection around him, soft as velvet, her flesh holding him tight and tugging at him with every move. He licked a stripe up her neck, tasting the salt of her skin, the scent of her surrounding him. There was no way he was going to last long. He could already feel the heat licking up his spine, his balls drawing up tight at the feel of her around him.

“Fuck,” he stuttered out as he thrust inside her. Belle drew up her knees, letting him sink deeper as she gripped him with thighs and he buried his face against her neck, shutting his eyes and trying to stave off his climax. He could hear his blood pulsing in his ears, could feel the sweat beading down his spine. He was done for, this was over.

"Yes, Rafe!" Belle cried as she stiffened beneath him, one hand gripping his shorter hair and the other holding on to his arse as his hips pumped against hers. She tightened around him, her cries gaining in pitch until he was sure someone downstairs at the party must be able to hear them. The feel of her coming around his cock was too much to handle and he came hard, white light bursting behind his eyelids as his cock pulsed within her, her body milking him for all he was worth. Pleasure arced through him, blinding in its intensity. It had been ages since he'd had anything but his own hand and Belle was better than anything else in his memory. His thrusts finally slowed, his breath coming hard as he collapsed against her, utterly spent.

He could hear her heart beating rapidly beneath his ear as Belle disentangled her legs from around his waist, her hands stroking across his sweat slicked back.

“See,” she said after a long moment as they caught their breath. “Nothing to be worried about. Not the kind of thing you forget.”

He raised his head off her chest, looking down at Belle’s sated smile with a swell of pride in his chest.

“On the contrary, it’s never been half that good before.”

Belle reached up to kiss him, a messy, exhausted press of lips for no other reason than pure affection.

“You silver tongued devil,” she said with a sleepy smile, stretching her arms up over her head. Her breasts pushed against his chest in the most tantalizing way that had him wishing he was a younger man with a slightly better refractory period.

“You know, before we had that talk in your shop the other morning, I had some fairly cold hearted revenge planned for you.”

Gold rolled to the side, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at Belle. He’d thought she couldn’t possibly look lovelier than when he’d first seen her at the party that evening. But seeing her now, naked and flushed, her hair a mess and her eyes sleepy, he knew he’d been wrong. This was what perfect happiness felt like and he couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful.

“Oh did you?” he asked, distracted by the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. He’d never noticed them before.

“Yeah,” Belle continued. “I was going to tie you up in one of Regina’s guest rooms, strip down to my underwear to give you a shock, and then leave you for someone to find all hot and bothered and frustrated.”

Gold gave her a choice eyebrow. “I can’t say I’d have enjoyed that.”

“You weren’t meant to,” Belle said with a giggle. “But I’ve got to say this was much more enjoyable for me personally.”

Gold chuckled, bending over to nip at Belle’s neck in payback.

“I suppose I would have deserved it. It might not have been all bad either. I might not mind being tied up as long as you come back at some point.”

“Oh,” Belle said with a grin. “I’ll file that note away for later.”

He smiled unrestrainedly at that. Later. There would be a later. There would be time for everything.  

“You know, I think this is the least awkward we’ve ever been around each other,” Belle marveled. “Maybe we should have fucked the day we met.”

“I could have shown up to check on your furnace that day just completely arse naked.”

“It really would have saved us a lot of pain and suffering.”

They dissolved in to laughs again, Belle rolling in to Gold’s side and burying her head against his chest. 

“I wish we could just stay here,” she said. “Think Regina would mind?”

Gold snorted. For a moment he’d forgotten where exactly they were.

“I’m sure I’ll be getting a dry cleaning bill,” he said.

Belle’s eyes went wide and she sat up, looking down at the pattern of wet spots beneath their naked bodies on the duvet.

“Oh God I’m gonna get fired,” she deadpanned.

Gold sat up too, placing a kiss on Belle’s shoulder, his arms wrapping around her midsection from behind.

“Nah,” he said. “She already told me to stay away from you because she doesn’t want to go through the hiring process again and thinks I’d scare you off. I’d say your job is safe.”

Belle laughed, reaching back to comb her fingers through Gold’s hair.

“Well I already kissed you in front of the whole town. They might as well know about this too, right?”

She let go of him reluctantly, glancing over at their pile of discarded clothing. "I guess we should get dressed. There's no telling who might be sneaking around up here." 

“If you’re not ready for our first date to end quite yet, you could always come back to my place for a drink. Neal is out for the night and I don’t anticipate a call from the sheriff’s office for a few hours yet.”

At Belle’s questioning look he continued. “He’s a bit of a Halloween prankster.”

“Oh yeah, it’s Halloween isn’t it,” she said with a shake of her head. “You fucked me so well I forgot what day it was.”

“I’d be more than happy to do it again,” he hummed against her shoulder. “But it does necessitate us making ourselves presentable.”

They reluctantly disentangled from each others arms, replacing their clothes while exchanging heated glances. Gold’s tux was rumpled and his mask was lost. Belle’s hair was a disaster, she had a smattering of red marks blooming across her throat, and she was holding her wings in one hand instead of putting them back on. They looked like they’d been up to exactly what they’d been up to, but as Belle took his hand, leading him happily from the bedroom, Gold couldn’t find it in himself to care. Perhaps this was love, though the rational part of his brain said it was far too soon to say. Whatever the case, he felt ten feet tall as Belle led him back down through the crowded foyer.

“Text me which room I need to have steam cleaned,” Regina hissed as he walked past her. “And don’t worry. I’ll send you the bill.”

Gold just laughed, winking at a stunned Regina as they left the party. 

"So just a drink, huh?" Belle said as he helped her in to the Cadillac and she tossed her wings on to the back seat. 

"Lets call it a nightcap," Gold said, sliding in to the driver's seat. "And if that goes well, maybe a round two." 

Belle scooted over next to him on the bench seat, leaning her head against his shoulder as he pulled out of Regina's drive. He didn't know if he'd ever get used to be the object of Belle's unrestrained affection. He sincerely hoped not, that he would never take it for granted. He placed a hand on Belle's knee in return, keeping his other hand on the steering wheel. 

"I'm happy," she said, smiling against his shoulder. 

"Me too," Gold replied.

He'd have to thank Neal at some point. Without a well placed lingerie magazine, this night may have never happened. Of course Neal would have to forever live with the knowledge that he'd seen his step-mother in her underwear. 

Gold shook his head, wondering where that thought had come from. He glanced down at Belle, snuggled against his side as they took the short drive to his home and realized his subconscious was right. He was going to marry Belle one day, if she'd have him. And she thought she moved fast. 

That was a thought for another day, of course. There would be time for that. There would be time for everything. 


End file.
